Broken Wings
by Art-Over-Matter
Summary: Set in an AU where the Winchester family is far more normal, a young Dean meets an eccentric boy named Castiel. It's only years later that he learns of Castiel's secret and everything between them is changed...
1. Chapter 1

This story starts with a bridge, and it ends with a bridge.

The first bridge is short, maybe five feet above a river, and only wide enough for one vehicle to pass through at a time. It's covered in drab gravel, which also covers the road stretching out in either direction. This bridge sits a short distance from a single, two-story house which holds a family of four.

A boy is outside the house, near the bridge, playing Frisbee with his younger brother.

His name is Dean Winchester, and his life is about to change forever.

vvv

 _July 1991._

 _Lawrence, Kansas._

"Come on, Dean, Mom called us in, like, ten minutes ago," Sam says, tugging his brother's hand.

"Hang on, Sammy. I gotta find the Frisbee."

"Okay, well, I'm going in."

Dean shrugs and lets him go. The grass is tall this time of year and he's lost the Frisbee somewhere near here.

When he finally catches sight of it, he finds it sitting at the edge of the river just off the bridge. The river is really more of a creek, running underneath the road in four-foot diameter culvert, and only has a tiny bank that Dean has to climb down in order to grab the Frisbee. As he clambers back up, he notices that someone is standing on the bridge.

Dean frowns. The closest houses are a good three or four miles off and never in all the time he's lived here has he seen someone on this bridge.

"Hey," he says, stepping out of the grass and onto the road. "Who are you?"

The other boy turns toward him. He's around Dean's age but scrawnier, with messy, feathery black hair. His eyes are some shade of dark and he wears a trench coat that's a little too big for him.

"I'm Castiel," he says quietly.

"Dean," he responds. He offers a handshake, for some reason feeling that he should be formal.

Castiel shakes his hand. His skin is soft, even for a young boy's, and warmer than Dean's.

"I didn't know anyone my age lived around here," Dean says, passing the Frisbee back and forth between his hands. "Did your family just move?"

The dark-haired boy shakes his head. "I just kind of wander."

Dean's not sure how that's an answer, but he doesn't dwell on it. "Maybe we should hang out sometime," Dean offers, eager to be around someone his age for once. He loves Sam, of course, but their four-year age gap is starting to show as Dean approaches puberty. "I gotta go 'cause my mom just called me in for dinner, but will you be here tomorrow?"

Castiel nods. "I can be." Then he frowns. "I've never 'hung out' with anyone before; how does it go?"

Dean laughs, taking it as a joke. "Just be here tomorrow, I'll meet you."

vvv

The next day, Dean trots out of the house in midmorning and makes the short walk to the bridge. He's realized that when he talked to Castiel yesterday, they'd never agreed on a time to meet—typical planning of a twelve-year-old—but he figures if he stays there long enough, he'll come around sometime.

The bridge is empty when he first arrives, so he sits on the railing, kicking his feet over the water as he waits. It's the time of year when it's hot and beginning to get very dry, so it's nice to live so near a source of water. Sam and Dean have spent countless hours by or in the little river, but today, Dean is hoping to share it with someone else.

"Hi, Dean."

Dean starts and twists around. Castiel is standing a few feet behind him, though his approach had been completely silent. "Uh, hi. Wow. You're quiet."

"Did I startle you?" he asks sheepishly.

"Oh, nah." He swings around and stands up on the bridge. "How'd you know I was here? We never said a time yesterday."

Castiel shrugs.

"Um. Okay. Where are you from? I know you said you hadn't just moved, but I think I woulda seen you if you'd been here a while."

"Up there," Castiel answers, pointing to the sky.

Dean looks up, confused but laughing. "You're from the sky?"

He frowns. "Is that not normal?"

Dean stares at him. "Nope. Not normal. Like, at all."

"What about you? Where do you live?"

"Just down the road. I'll show you my house, if you want."

Castiel shakes his head. "I probably shouldn't. I don't think I'm allowed to go any farther than this."

Dean shrugs. "'Kay." He picks up a rock from the bridge and tosses it over, where it lands in the water with a small splash. "So if you're name's Castiel, can I call you Cas? How 'bout Cassie?" He looks up with a grin.

Castiel tips his head slowly to the side, puzzled but curious. "But that's not my name."

"No, but like a nickname."

"A what?"

Dean laughs. "A nickname. You know, like your name, but shortened. My friends at school always have nicknames for each other."

"I've never been called anything but Castiel."

"Well, it's settled then," Dean says with a nod. "I'm gonna call you Cas."

vvv

The boys grow closer as time passes. Dean only sees Cas three or maybe four times a month, but they often spend hours at a time together, entire mornings or afternoons. Some days they sit side by side at the bridge and talk, some days they skip rocks through the culvert, some days Dean brings out a CD player and puts headphones on Cas's ears, having him listen to Def Leppard or Metallica or Led Zeppelin or (on occasion) Bon Jovi. The more time Dean spends with Castiel throughout the summer, the more he realizes that Cas is unusual. Very unusual. Most of the things Dean has grown up with are completely unfamiliar to him and he never talks much about himself.

When Dean asked about Cas's family once, he got a description, but not what he was expecting. Lots of siblings, Cas said, most of whom are much older. No mother— just that he's never met her, Dean assumes—and a very absent father. Because of this, Dean feels like he needs to share his own family. Though Cas never meets the rest of the Winchesters—"I can't," he says time after time, as if he's been forbidden—Dean talks about them often and Cas seems to enjoy it. He gets to the point where he calls Mary 'Mom' and John 'Dad.'

All this time, though, Dean assumes Castiel is just a very odd kid. A great friend, he finds, but just someone different, like the type that would be horribly bullied in school (though according to Cas, he doesn't go to school).

Then one spring day in 1993 comes around.

Dean and Cas are together again now that the school year is over and Dean has more free time.

"Come on, Dean, it doesn't take _that_ long to get up here," Cas teases from far above Dean in the branches.

Dean hasn't had a ton of experience climbing trees since there are so few around where he lives, but he's wishing this wasn't the case. "How'd you get up there so fast?" he pants, heaving himself up onto a branch. He has nowhere to put his feet, which kick helplessly as he tries to cling onto the branch.

"Here," Cas says, now only a few feet up.

"What the hell?" Dean looks up to Cas, who's perched on a branch with his hand outstretched toward him. Dean takes it, swallowing his pride only because it's Cas.

Cas pulls him up to sitting on the branch and Dean is surprised by his strength.

"Thanks," Dean says breathlessly. He starts to climb higher, but the position of the branches aren't in his favor. He grabs onto one without looking at it and shifts most of his weight to it.

Then it snaps.

Dean isn't even sure what happens. He hears a crack, feels branches smacking into him from every direction, then hits the ground. The breath is knocked from him and he immediately feels a sharp, flaring pain in his left wrist.

Castiel is suddenly beside him—Dean has no idea how—saying, "Dean. Dean! Are you okay?"

Dean's face is scrunched up with pain and his eyes are watering. "I—my arm..."

"Let me see it," Cas says, crouching next to him.

Though he doesn't want to move it, Dean extends his arm toward Cas. Frowning as if in concentration, Cas takes it carefully in one hand and uses his other to put two fingers lightly on Dean's wrist.

Instantly, the pain is gone.

It takes Dean a moment to realize he feels completely normal. His eyes widen. "How did you...?" He looks at his wrist, which Cas has let go of. There's no sign whatsoever of the break that had been there only a second before. "Cas, that makes no sense. What did you do?"

He shakes his head, looking a little nervous or even scared. "I—I don't know. I knew I could, but I've never done it before."

There's a moment of silence, then Dean's face lights up. "That is the coolest thing ever! Don't you get it?" He stands up, pulling Cas to his feet, and holds onto his arm excitedly. "Dude, I could be invincible! We stay together forever and every time something happens, you can fix me!"

Castiel looks surprised, but he smiles. "I...I don't know what all I can do, but—but yeah." He grins. "Sounds like a plan."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean spends much of his year as a fourteen-year-old the same way he's spent the last few, but certain things start to change. During the summer, he splits his time between his parents, his brother, and Castiel. He gets into trouble with friends from school but now starts flirting with girls as well. When fall comes around, he and Sam grudgingly go back to school. Dean sees Cas less while Dean and his brother start to drift apart. Dean begins to discover that he sometimes has urges to flirt with boys and even develops a two-week crush on a boy in his class before switching gears and asking a girl named Emily to be his girlfriend.

Christmas break comes around. Everything seems normal and great. For the first few days of break, Dean sits outside on the snow-dusted bridge and talks to Cas for hours while finding things to throw in the river, which will soon be frozen over. The rest of his weeks off he intends to spend with his family. This is the kind of routine he and Castiel have had for the past two Christmases: when break comes to an end, Dean and Cas will meet again and Dean will recap his Christmas, sometimes smuggling cookies or the like out of the house to give his best friend. Or in Christmas of 1992, he even gave Cas his old black CD player and headphones, since Dean had just gotten a new set.

But this Christmas is different.

This Christmas changes everything.

One week before Christmas, Sam comes down with the flu. It's stressful and annoying, but the family knows it's temporary. They take him to the doctor for some medicine, and Dean sits with John in the waiting room while Mary takes Sam back.

The wait seems to take forever. Dean feels bad for his brother, but he really just wants to go home and have dinner.

When Mary emerges, holding Sam's hand, she looks shaken. Dean's never seen his mom this way.

"John, we need to take him to a different doctor. They gave me a name, we need to take him there as soon as possible."

John stands, frowning with concern. "What is it? Why?"

Mary glances at the boys and answers quietly, "They don't think it's the flu."

It's only the day before Christmas Eve that they get Sam in to see this new doctor. This time, Dean sits in the waiting room alone while both of his parents leave with Sam. It feels like hours that he sits in that chair, flipping through magazines time after time, watching the television across the room, wishing Cas would magically appear so he could talk to him.

When it's finally over, Dean can tell there's something wrong. His parents say nothing to him as they take him and Sam back to the car to head home.

"What is it?" Dean whispers to Sam in the backseat of the Impala.

Sam shakes his head. He looks tired. "I don't know. They didn't really tell me."

On Christmas Eve, John takes Dean aside as Mary goes to talk to Sam.

"Dean, there's something you need to understand about your brother."

Dean's never seen his dad look so solemn and he just nods quietly.

"What he has isn't the flu. This morning we got a call from the doctor and we learned that Sam has..." Tears come to John's eyes—which Dean has never seen in his life—and he pauses. "Sam has leukemia, Dean."

Dean blinks. He knows he's heard the word before and he knows it's bad, but he can't remember what it is.

"That's cancer," John says as if he understands Dean's thoughts. "It's a cancer in his blood."

Dean frowns and finds himself intensely confused. Cancer? But cancer happens to other people. It's not something that happens to his family. Not Sammy. Does this mean...?

"Is Sammy gonna be okay?" Dean asks.

"Yeah," John answers. He swallows and nods. "Yeah. It's still in the early stages, they think, and they'll help us come up with a treatment plan. But it's going to be hard, Dean. It's going to be hard on all of us."

Dean's not sure what to say or how to feel or if he believes what John's just said. But he feels a little like crying, so he says nothing and hugs his dad, wondering what the hell is coming next.

Christmas slips by like any other day. The Winchester's parents try to bring a little livelihood back into the house and still give the boys their presents, but no one really feels the same. Sam starts spending most of his time in bed, constantly with a fever, sometimes with nausea or a headache. Some days he cries for minutes on end, saying his whole body hurts and won't stop.

Dean's birthday nears as Sam starts treatment. The doctors seem optimistic, saying that most children of Sam Winchester's health can be helped greatly by treatment. The survival rate of childhood leukemia is high. It's good news, but it doesn't make Dean feel a lot better. It hasn't helped the entire family from secretly being miserable.

In all this time, Dean hasn't seen Cas. He hasn't forgotten him—sometimes he looks out the window and sees him out on the road, waiting—but he just hasn't been in the mood to talk. He doesn't want to have to explain what's happening.

But one day in mid-February, his parents are gone and Sam is asleep and Dean feels lonely.

He figures it's about time he catches up with his best friend.

Castiel is on the bridge when Dean heads out.

"Dean." He sounds surprised to see him.

"Hey, Cas." Dean digs his hands into the pockets of his winter coat.

"How are you? It's been a while..." Dean thinks Cas can probably see on his face that everything isn't normal.

"I'm okay," Dean answers. He's really not. Holding in all the stress and fear he's been feeling for the past month has been hard on him. But it's his default answer, even when he never lies to Cas.

"What's wrong?" Cas asks, tilting his head to the side.

Dean steps over to the bridge railing and sits on it, his back to the frozen river. It takes him a long time to answer.

Then, "Everything."

Frowning, Cas sits beside him. "Do you...want to talk about it?"

Dean shakes his head, biting his lip. "I just thought I'd come out to, you know. Acknowledge we're still friends. Sorry I've been ignoring you."

"It's alright," Cas says sincerely, taking Dean's hand. "I understand if...if you're going through hard times right now."

Dean is surprised at how warm Cas's hand is, even in the sharply cool air. They sit for a while in silence and Dean feels like his life is pressing in on him, trying to suffocate him.

"Cas."

"Yes?"

"Sam has leukemia."

Cas shifts to face him. "What?"

Dean nods. "Yeah. He started treatment almost a month ago. It's..." He swallows. "I know it takes a while to work, but it hasn't changed anything. He's still miserable all the time and Mom and Dad are always stressed out and they forgot my birthday, which I know I totally shouldn't care about, but I...I don't know. It's just so much has changed and I—I'm so sick of it already," he says, growing angry. "I just want everything to go back to normal."

"I'm sorry," Cas says quietly.

"That doesn't change anything," Dean says, but he's not angry anymore, just resigned.

Cas looks sad, but not because of what Dean said. Just _for_ him. He opens his arms slightly, nervously offering Dean a hug.

Dean takes it without hesitation. He's never really hugged Cas before. Everyone at school calls that gay. But this time he knows they're alone and he wouldn't really care anyway. Cas, though smaller in frame than Dean, provides a greater comfort, a bigger presence, than even his parents could.

Dean lets the hug last a long time, putting his cheek down on Cas's shoulder. He feels tears come to his eyes but he knows he's not going to cry. He never really has.

Then he pulls away and sits straight upright, looking at Cas with wide eyes. "Cas. You. _You._ "

"What did I do?" Cas asks as if he's done something wrong.

"No, no. Cas, way back—almost a year ago—you healed me the time I fell out of that tree. You could fix Sam!"

Castiel looks hesitant. "I—I don't know, Dean, I've never really practiced with healing—"

"Come on," Dean says, grabbing Cas's hand and pulling him toward the house.

"Dean, stop."

The tone in Cas's voice makes Dean halt and turn back. "What?"

"I'll do it. I can at least try for you. But no one can know I did this, okay? Not even Sam."

"Okay, fine," Dean says immediately. "Sam's asleep, if we're quiet he'll never know you're there."

Cas nods and lets Dean lead him into the house.

Sam is asleep, as promised, looking more pale than ever. Dean stands by the bed as Cas steps up to Sam.

Hesitantly, Cas puts two fingers on Sam's forehead. After a moment with his eyes closed, he lifts his hand away and turns to Dean, nodding. "He's better." Then he starts to collapse.

Dean grabs him under the arms and helps him out of the room as Sam starts to stir.

"Cas, you okay?" Dean asks once they're downstairs and leaving the house.

Cas nods, but he looks a little faint. "I'm fine. It was just a lot to do all at once."

"Did you really do it? The cancer's gone?"

Cas nods again.

Dean stops them on the porch and leaps forward to give Cas a hug. "I love you. Thank you."

The smile on Cas's face when they part is a kind Dean has never seen on him. "You're welcome." The smile fades. "I should go."

"Okay," Dean says with a nod. "My parents are going to think this is a miracle. I wish I could tell them."

"Don't." Cas is serious. "I...I'm breaking a lot of rules doing this and even coming to see you. It can't go any further than this."

Dean raises his hands conciliatorily. "Okay. I don't understand, but...okay."

"I'm sorry, I can't really explain, I have to go."

"I should go see Sam anyway. I'll see you later, Cas. Thanks."

Dean turns back to the house and jogs upstairs to see his brother.

"Hey, Sammy."

Sam sits up. "Hi Dean."

"How d'you feel?"

"I'm good. I feel really good, actually."

"Really?" He sits on the end of Sam's bed. "Mom and Dad should be home soon, hopefully you still feel good by then. That'll make them happy."

It only takes a few weeks for the doctors to realize that Sam's leukemia is gone. John and Mary are stunned but incredibly happy. Dean pretends to be surprised, but he doesn't have to feign happiness.

This is the best thing Cas could've given him.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I apologize for this chapter being so short, I wasn't paying attention when I ended the last one. But in the meantime, how are you guys liking this fic? It's pretty different from the last one. I have yet to decide which I like better.**

Dean doesn't see Cas at all for weeks— _months_ —after Sam is healed. Sometimes he sits out by the bridge, waiting, but Cas never comes. Not for the rest of February. Not March. Not May.

Not until June fourth does Dean finally see his best friend again.

"Cas!" he says in surprise. He'd just been taking the garbage out and caught sight of him down the road, having no idea Cas would be there. Running up and giving him a hug, he says, "Where've you been?"

"I'm sorry," Cas says, hugging him back, putting his face in Dean's shoulder. During the time they've been apart, Dean realizes he's grown slightly taller than Cas. "I know I should've told you somehow, but my...my family was keeping me from going anywhere, especially here. I want to come, really—"

"Hey, don't worry about it," Dean says, frowning and stepping back. "Are you, like...not allowed to come here? Your dad doesn't want you to? What's the deal?"

"I...kind of," Cas admits, not meeting Dean's eyes. "I'm not really supposed to be here, but...but it's not like I'll get in trouble or anything," he adds too quickly.

"Wait, is there something you're not telling me?"

"Forget it," Cas says. "Sorry I've been gone so long. How are you? How're Mom and Dad and your brother?"

"We're _so much_ better since you last came by. Sammy's really good. He's getting really smart actually, he worries me." Dean chuckles, but then his smile drops. "But lately the big news is that we're moving."

"Really?" Cas asks with a small frown. "Where? When?"

"New York, and in just a few months. Before school starts again, hopefully." Dean kicks a pebble of gravel. "I've wanted to tell you for a while now. I don't think we'll see each other again after that."

Cas's expression falls further. "Really?"

Dean shakes his head sadly. "Not unless you're moving to New York too."

Cas looks thoughtful, then disappointed. "No. I don't think we'll see each other."

"Well," Dean says with false casualness, "we'll make the most of this summer, huh?"

Nodding, Cas looks up to him. "Dean, there's something I have to do. Especially now that you're moving."

"Oh...kay. What would that be?"

Cas doesn't answer, but reaches out and puts a hand on Dean's chest. It isn't an affectionate gesture, it's purposeful. "This is gonna hurt for a second," Cas warns.

"Um, what—" Then Dean's whole chest starts to burn, like his very bones are heating up. It reaches the point where he almost cries out in pain, and then it's gone.

Disbelieving, Dean steps back from Cas, shoving his hand away. "What the hell was that for? That hurt. A lot."

"It's—it's to protect you," Cas says.

"Protect me?" Dean asks incredulously. "Protect me from what?"

Cas turns away. "I can't tell you."

"What, so you mess with me and then can't even explain why?" Dean steps around so he's more in front of Cas again, though the other boy keeps his eyes on the ground. "You're my best friend, Cas. You really are. But sometimes, you're creepy, and you scare the crap out of me."

"I'm sorry, Dean—"

"Quit apologizing! Just tell me what's going on!"

"I can't," Cas says, his voice breaking. He finally looks up, and Dean can see tears in his dark blue eyes. "I just can't tell you. I wish I could."

After a pause, Dean says quietly, "Okay." He takes Cas's hand and laces their fingers together. "Sorry. I shouldn't have gotten worked up. I don't understand you sometimes, but I guess I don't have to. Just don't do anything like that again. Not if you can't tell me why."

Cas nods. "Okay," he whispers.

The summer passes faster than Dean expects it to. He only sees Castiel a handful of times—much less than he'd like—and before Dean knows it, they've agreed on the time they'll say goodbye.

It's an hour or two before Mary and John say everybody will be in the car to head to the airport. Dean heads out to the bridge, their forever meeting spot, and waits for Cas.

And waits.

And waits.

Ten minutes pass. Fifteen. Thirty.

Dean swings his feet over the water.

Forty. Fifty-five.

He's not coming, Dean realizes. For whatever reason, Castiel isn't coming to say goodbye.

And hour passes, and then another half.

"Dean!" he hears his mom call. "Time to go!"

Slowly, it sinks in. He's not going to see Cas again. This was it, and he missed it. He swings around, stands up from the bridge, and heads toward where John and Mary are loading the rental car—the Impala is already in New York.

He gets into the car and all he feels is sad. He's leaving this home he's known all his life, that bridge and that river, this state, and his friend.

As the car starts to drive away down the gravel road, Dean looks back at the bridge.

He can see him. Cas, standing at the bridge, watching the car drive away.

But Dean knows he's just imagining it, because before he looks away, he swears that Cas has wings.


	4. Chapter 4

_April 2003._

 _Philadelphia, Pennsylvania._

Dean Winchester walks down a busy street downtown, his hands shoved into the pockets of his worn leather jacket. He has an agenda today, which is nice because he likes to be busy. Go buy the piece he needs to fix Baby, find somewhere to pick up dinner, try to get a hold of Dad, get a beer, go home, actually fix Baby.

He walks into the specialty auto parts store, which he's been to many times. There aren't an abundance of places one can find the right parts for a 1967 Chevrolet Impala and this is the closest.

"You here to pick something up?" the man behind the counter asks.

"I am," Dean answers. "Dean Winchester," he says, which was actually for the purpose of the pick-up, but he can't help but give a flirtatious look to the man behind the counter. He's new and young and cute and Dean can't help himself.

He just gets a weird look instead as the man heads to the back.

Dean shrugs and leans up against the counter to wait.

He's twenty-four years old. He lives at an apartment in Camden, New Jersey, which is right across the river from Philly. He works as a mechanic and in his spare time also works on cars—or specifically, his baby. He likes to drink but only gets very drunk on occasion, has gotten seven speeding tickets but has never had another run-in with cops, and is completely unafraid to admit that he's had numerous affairs with both men and women.

A lot has changed in nine years.

"Here you go, sir," the cute guy from behind the counter says.

"Thank you," Dean says, taking it and giving the man a wink before he turns and leaves. The guy was probably straight, but Dean doesn't really care. He flirts with reckless abandon.

As he steps out onto the sidewalk again, he pulls out his phone and flips it open. His plan was dinner and then call, but he decides to switch the order.

He dials his dad's number and puts the phone to his ear as he starts to walk toward the nearest fast food joint. He waits for a minute as the other line rings, but no one answers and it goes to voicemail.

"Hey, Dad," he says, deciding to leave a message for the first time in a while. "This is, like, the hundredth time I've called you. Sam and I haven't heard from you in a long time and I'm just tryin' to check in. I don't know why you won't answer me. Call me back, please."

Shaking his head, he pulls the phone away from his ear, looking down at it as he sends the message. Just as he looks up, he runs straight into someone.

"Woah, sorry, man," he says, grabbing the person's arms to steady the both of them and stepping back. "Watch where—" Then he stops.

Trench coat. Black hair. Dark blue eyes. Slightly shorter stature than Dean.

"Castiel?" he asks incredulously.

"Dean," the man says, looking as stunned as Dean feels.

"What are you...?" Dean shakes his head and, on impulse, gives Cas a brief hug, patting him on the back. Cas returns it, but there's something uneasy about him. Not to mention that it feels very different hugging Cas as a man than it did when they were boys.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asks, putting his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

"Just...taking a break from normal life," Cas answers. He glances around as though nervous, then looks at Dean, eyebrows raised. "How have you been all these years?"

"You know, a lot has happened," Dean says honestly. "But right now I'm pretty good."

"How are your parents? And your brother?"

"Dad's good." Dean clears his throat. "And Sammy's finishing his first year at Stanford."

Cas frowns. "And...your mother...?"

He doesn't seem to take a hint very well.

"We had a house fire about six years back," Dean answers. "Mom got injured, went to the hospital. She died the next day." He looks down, playing with the zipper on his jacket.

"I'm sorry," Cas says. "Really—"

"It's alright," Dean says, wanting to avoid the unbearable sincerity he knew Cas was about to start. "There are a handful of people who deserve to know what happened. You're one. _So_ ," he says to change the subject, "I'm about to head over to get a burger. You wanna come? We've got a lot of catching up to do."

"I—I'd love to, but..."

"Come on," Dean urges. "You got some time for your childhood buddy, right?"

Cas smiles, but says, "Thank you for inviting me, Dean. But I can't. I have something urgent."

"Okay, bad time, I get it. You stayin' here or passing through?"

"Just...passing through."

"Well, you should stop by my place before you leave. It's over in Camden, but close enough. Lemme give you my number so I can tell you how to get there."

"Uh, yes. Fine." Cas digs in his pockets but comes up empty. "I don't have paper or anything to write with."

"That's what you have a hand for," Dean says, pulling a pen out of his pocket as he grabs Cas's hand and writes his phone number down on his palm. He catches a glimpse of a mark on Cas's arm, either an odd tattoo or a scar, he can't tell. Then he drops Cas's hand.

"I'll contact you," Cas says with a nod. He glances around again.

"Are you okay?" Dean asks with a cocked eyebrow. "You look uneasy."

"I'm fine," he says too quickly. "Enjoy your food, Dean, I have to go."

"'Kay then. I'll talk to you later."

"Of course."

Dean turns away and crosses the street toward the restaurant. When he glances back, Cas is nowhere to be found. Dean shakes his head and goes to get food. He's not naïve enough to expect that he and Cas are going to have a phone call, maybe a visit, and suddenly be best friends again. Too many years have passed, too much has changed. He doesn't expect Castiel to be the same person he knew before. But Cas has always intrigued him and, now that he's older, he's realized he had a very large crush on him when they were young. It wouldn't hurt to catch up.

After the restaurant, he decides to treat himself to a trip to the bar, just as planned. He knows he'll have to go easy since he needs to drive himself back home, but all the same. The bars here in Philly are superior to those in Camden for some frustrating reason Dean doesn't understand.

His bar of choice is much closer to the edge of town than he'd been before, so he has to suffer through some late afternoon traffic to get there. The bar is in a part of the city that a lot of people would gladly pass up at a glance, but though the surrounding buildings look a little run-down and there are a handful of alleys even Dean would avoid, the beer is some of the best.

As soon as he sits down and orders a beer, his phone rings. He pulls it out with the hope that it's his dad, but this is an unfamiliar number.

"Hello," he answers, putting an elbow on the bar counter.

"Dean?"

"Cas. Hey. I didn't expect a call from you within a few hours of meeting."

"I know. I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier, I must've sounded like I didn't want to speak with you."

"Nah, I get it. You're a busy guy. You got some time now?"

"Yes."

"So how have you been, man? I don't think I asked you earlier."

"I've been alright."

"What're you doing with your life?"

"How...how do you mean?"

Dean smiles. Cas hasn't changed _that_ much. "Like, where do you work? You got a girlfriend?"

"I'm...I'm between jobs right now," Cas says. "And no girlfriend. How about yourself?"

"Ah, my boyfriend and I broke up last week, but it's all good. He was kind of a dick anyway. I'm working as a mechanic over in Camden. Even you know I love working on cars. Been doing it since I was about thirteen."

"What happened to that car of your dad's? Did you ever learn to drive it?"

Dean can't help but smile again. Cas remembers him better than he would've thought. "Yep, she's my baby now. I was in town to get a part for her when I ran into you. Literally."

He hears Cas chuckle.

"You know, I'm just hanging at a bar right now," Dean says. "If you've got some time, you can head over. I'll tell you where it is."

"Well, I'm at a payphone right now..."

"Cas, you can hang up. And then drive over." He pauses and frowns. "Why are you at a payphone? You don't have a cell phone?"

"Um, no. Not currently."

"You're twenty-three," Dean says teasingly, "people our age have cell phones. But no, anyway, you got the time?"

"I think I do," Cas says, sounding hesitant. "For you, Dean."

Dean chuckles. "Well, don't get flirty."

"Was that flirtatious?" he asks, sounding concerned.

"I'm kidding, Cas, take a joke. I'm at a bar called Harrison's on second street. You familiar with the area, or should I tell you how to get here?"

"No, I'll be there."

"Hey, before you go. I've got a quick question for you." Dean feels almost nervous asking this and he's not certain why.

"Yes?"

"I know this is probably a weird thing to bring up, but I was thinking...all those years ago, on the day we left Kansas..."

"You're wondering why I never met you like we agreed." Cas sounds a little guilty.

"Uh, yeah. I mean, it's been a long time, you know, it's not a big deal. I just can't help being curious."

There's a pause on the other end. Dean wonders if he shouldn't have asked. Then Cas says, "My family wouldn't let me see you. Especially not that day."

Dean isn't sure if this is the answer he was expecting or not. "They knew about us seeing each other? And...what was wrong with it?"

"I'm not sure, Dean," he sighs. "But yes, they knew, and they forbade it. I...I don't know what would have happened if I'd tried to see you then."

"All that time I was mad at you," Dean says, more to himself than to Cas. "I guess I was wrong. Well hey, that's a good enough excuse for me. I'll see you in a few."

"Yes, I'll be there once we hang up."

Dean flips the phone shut, then frowns. That sounded literal. As if either the phone booth was right outside the bar—which Dean knew couldn't be the case, there wasn't one this far out of town—or Cas expected to get there in an instant.

He takes another swing of his beer and turns to look outside the window, half expecting to see Cas there already.

And he does.

He gets just a glimpse of the trench coat and dark hair outside the bar before Cas freezes, turns, and starts to walk quickly in the other direction.

Without thinking, Dean drops some money onto the counter and stands up to find him.

When he gets outside, he sees Cas just as he's turning a corner into one of the alleys Dean avoids.

"Cas?" he calls.

Nothing. Cas doesn't even look back.

Dean stands outside the bar for a moment, conflicted. Should he follow him? This is probably none of his business, but what if Cas is in trouble or something?

He follows him.


	5. Chapter 5

"Cas," he calls quietly upon turning down the alley where he'd seen his old friend. He sees an old rusty door into one of the buildings' basements closing. That must have been him.

Dean goes up to the door without hesitation and pulls it open with a nasty creak.

"Cas?"

It's almost completely dark down the stairs, but he can hear something moving around below. Shaking his head, he starts down the stairs, wishing he were the weird kind of person who kept a flashlight around.

"Castiel," he says, this time almost at a whisper, "will you stop for a second and talk to me? What the hell's going on?"

He finds the bottom of the stairs as he hears Cas's voice. "You shouldn't have followed me, Dean," he says, though Dean can't quite tell from where because of the harsh echo. He sounds angry, maybe even scared.

"We had _just_ gotten off the phone," Dean says slowly, feeling the cold wall for a light switch. "You were at the bar and then suddenly turned and ran away. What was I supposed to do?"

"You should leave," Cas says flatly.

Dean's eyes are gradually adjusting and he starts to see the shape of a window at the far end of the room. He can't see the wall well enough to make out a switch, but his hand finally finds it just as he steps on something that feels like cloth on the floor. Keeping his hand on the switch so he doesn't lose it, he looks down. Is it Cas's trench coat he's stepped on?

"Okay, Cas, I don't know what your deal is, but I'm gonna turn these damn lights on and we're gonna talk."

"No!" Cas says in a panic. "Don't turn the lights on, Dean, please."

"What? Why?" Giving up on the light switch, Dean starts to head cautiously toward the window. He thinks he can see Cas standing just to the left of it, on Dean's side of the room.

"There's something I've kept from you," Cas says quickly. "All the time we were friends as children, I kept a secret from you."

"I...kinda guessed," Dean says hesitantly.

"It isn't what you think," Cas says, quietly, more slowly. "Dean, I'm not human."

Dean stops in his tracks. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like." He takes a breath. "I—I'm an angel."

Dean frowns. "Like, superhero angel, or God's minions angel?"

Silence.

"Okay, sorry, but I have no idea what you mean."

"I saved your brother from leukemia. I healed your wrist when you broke it falling out of that tree. I can...I can move place to place without walking. I always knew when you were at that bridge even though we hadn't spoken about it." Cas slows himself down and when he speaks, it's softly. "Hadn't you ever wondered why?"

Dean feels very numb all of a sudden. It fits. He's never been a religious man—he never thought angels existed. But what explanation is there for the things Castiel can do? The very _name_ sounds like that of an angel.

"Cas," he says slowly because something has just occurred to him, "why...why won't you let me turn on the lights?"

"I never wanted you to see," Cas says, almost more to himself than to Dean. "I never wanted you to know what I am."

"Cas, what are you hiding?" Dean reaches into his pocket and pulls out his lighter.

Castiel steps forward and puts a hand lightly over Dean's eyes. Dean flinches at first since he hadn't seen Cas reach out toward him, but Cas's touch isn't intrusive and Dean trusts him just enough not to push him away. He frowns into Cas's palm.

Still covering Dean's eyes, Cas steps away from the wall, turning both of them around. Then he takes his hand away.

"Light it," he says quietly.

Dean flicks the lighter on.

The small flame illuminates Cas, who's standing in the middle of the floor shirtless, hugging himself as if he's nervous or self-conscious.

It also illuminates his great, black, feathery wings.

As much as he tells himself not to, Dean stares.

It makes a lot of sense now, why Cas covered Dean's eyes and moved to the center of the room. His silhouette would have shown in front of the window and Dean would've seen the outline of his wings. He's in the center of the room now because, with them fully spread, the wings must be some fourteen feet wide. They're taller than his shoulders and reach down to his lower back.

Dean starts to walk around Cas, not speaking. Dean doesn't know anything about birds or their wings, but he'd guess Cas's wings are like those of an osprey. His feathers are sleek and reflect the lighter's flame and in toward Cas's shoulders, they look soft to the touch.

Then Cas pulls them in with a quiet rustle and turns around. "I couldn't ever tell you," he says, resigned, "because I knew it would change everything."

Dean still can't find anything to say as he looks dumbfounded at Cas. With Cas's wings folded in, they're like the perfect shape of angel wings, arcing above his shoulders and reaching down almost to the ground.

"Please say something," Cas begs, "this is unbearable—"

"That," Dean says, and swallows, "is the coolest damn thing I've ever seen." He finds himself grinning.

Cas slowly cocks his head to the side. "What?"

"I have no idea how this is possible," Dean says, spreading his hands to gesture to Cas, "but it's awesome."

"I—I don't understand—"

"Cas you have wings!" Dean exclaims. "You have actual wings." He laughs, then frowns. "Wait, how does that work? Earlier when I saw you, you didn't have them. Is it a night thing? Like...a werewolf or something?"

Cas shakes his head. "No. It's...it's a punishment. From heaven."

"A punishment? How is this a punishment? And for what?"

"I'm here to interact with humans. I want to learn about them, understand them. If...if I could _be_ one of you, I would. This—" He shifts his wings slightly and lowers his head. "This alienates me, reminds me what I really am."

Dean pauses for a moment, then says, "Yeah, but...can't you _fly_?"

Cas sighs, but smiles a bit for some reason. "I've never really tried, actually. This usually only lasts a few hours." He flaps his wings twice, sending dust swirling up from the floor and creating a brief wind that washes over Dean and puts his lighter out. "Besides," Cas says, wings going still, "I can't ever go anywhere with these. I can't hide them."

Dean flicks his lighter back on. "So they just...appear and disappear whenever heaven wants?"

Cas nods. "More or less. But yes, they control when I do and don't have them."

"I still don't get how the heaven thing works and I'm a little skeptical there, but—hey, what are the symbols for?" He's been so distracted by Cas's wings he only just noticed the series of symbols on both of Cas's arms, from just above his wrist all the way to just above his elbows. At first, Dean thinks they're tattoos, but then he realizes. "Are they burns?"

The angel looks down at his arms, then folds them across his bare chest as if trying to hide them. "Yes. They're Enochian. They're the reason the angels in heaven can control my wings. I've had them since...since before I met you."

"Wait. So these angels burned friggin' hieroglyphics into you when you were a kid?"

Cas nods.

"Aren't they s'posed to be...I don't know, good?"

"I believe humans have a glorified conception of angels these days. We're soldiers. We serve heaven and the Lord, not humanity."

Dean frowns. "Don't take this as an insult, but you...you don't seem like the soldier type, Cas. I've met people who're the soldier type—hell, I've been told I'm one of them. But not you."

"Maybe..." Cas glances at the ground and then back to Dean. "Maybe that's why I don't work very well in heaven."

"Alright," Dean says, putting a hand briefly on Cas's shoulder, "quit being dejected. Why don't you come back to Camden with me? You can stop by my apartment, we'll talk. I still feel like you have a lot of explaining to do."

He starts to head for the stairs, but Cas doesn't follow.

"I don't understand," Cas says, shaking his head. "How are you okay with this?"

Dean holds the lighter up again, though its sputtering and he knows it must be about out of fuel. "With what?"

Cas flaps his wings pointedly and the light goes out a final time.

"Why wouldn't I be okay with it? I mean, the whole heaven deal is a lot to believe, but this is pretty solid. I mean, you just put my damn lighter out. I believe it."

"But don't you mind?"

"That my childhood best friend is an angel who sometimes has wings and is supposed to be a soldier of the Lord but likes hanging out with humans instead? Nah, I'm good."

"Oh my god, that was horrible," Dean says, clutching his stomach. They're back at his car, which he could only convince Cas to do if they could get there instantly, using Cas's angel mojo.

"What's wrong?" Cas asks with a frown.

"I feel like I'm gonna puke," Dean answers tightly, leaning against Baby. "It'll pass, just give me a minute."

After another few seconds, Dean feels well enough to straighten and unlock his car. It's late enough and far enough outside the busy part of the city that the parking lot is empty, which is good. The shirtless, winged Cas could bring about a lot of questions.

"Somethin' gives me the feeling you've never been in a car," Dean sighs, watching Cas's expression as he peers into the car.

"I haven't," Cas says a little self-consciously.

"Well, you're in luck," Dean says smugly. "She's the best ride you'll ever have." He starts to get in the car, then stands back up to add, "I may be biased."

It takes a good two minutes for Cas to figure out how to get his wings into the car. Eventually, he ends up sitting pressed against the seat with his wings wrapped awkwardly around him.

"So Cas, I have to ask," Dean says, starting his car, "what are you in trouble for? You have the wings now, but you didn't have them earlier, so something must've changed."

Cas hesitates. "I shouldn't say."

Dean glances over while backing his car out of the parking space. "Fine. I guess heaven can have its secrets."

A long time seems to pass before either of them says something, long enough that they're almost across the toll bridge into New Jersey.

"Welcome to Camden," Dean says as the old green bridge is left behind them and he takes the exit into Camden. "It's ugly as hell, if you ask me, but it's home."

Cas looks out the window at the lights of the town around them. "I like it," he says. "It's not as...chaotic as Philadelphia."

Dean shrugs. "Fair."

"So Dean," Cas says, looking over and around his wing at him, "what are we going to do? When we get back to your apartment, I mean."

"I don't know. Have that conversation we would've had in the bar, I guess. Plus some bonus honesty since now I know you're an angel. Then...you go back to heaven?"

"I can only return once my wings are gone."

"You said that only takes a few hours, right? Well, we've wasted about one. We'll find a way to spend another few."


	6. Chapter 6

Dean wakes up the next morning with the sun glaring into his eyes through the window. Immediately, his thoughts turn to the odd day he'd had yesterday. Meeting a friend he hadn't seen since he was fifteen, then learning he was angel? The most normal part might've been the conversation they'd had over beers once they got back to Dean's apartment, regardless of the fact that they talked a lot about heaven and angels. After about an hour, Cas's wings had disappeared. One moment Dean had looked at him and they were there, and then the next they were gone. Cas had left shortly after that.

Dean rolls onto his back and glances over at the clock on his dresser.

9:30.

9:30?!

 _Shit._

He sits up fast and climbs out of bed, snatching some random clothes off the floor as he heads to the bathroom.

It's Monday. He was supposed to be into work at 9:00.

Dean pulls the Impala out of the driveway at about 9:50 and gets his eighth speeding ticket on his way to the auto shop. By the time he makes it there, it's 10:25.

"Sleep in this morning?" one of his coworkers asks jokingly.

But since that's exactly what happened, Dean just glares.

He can't help but wonder if he messed up his routine because of Castiel. Sure, Dean is not the world's most responsible person, but he's never been _this_ late to work before. The only variable: Cas. What is it about him that distracts Dean so much?

Probably the angel part.

But maybe something else.

The day passes without further incident until Dean's headed back to Baby in the afternoon. He notices a woman in a business suit across the street from him, standing completely still, staring at him. Frowning, he glances around, thinking there must be something else she's looking at, but he doesn't find anything. He looks back to her, but she's gone. There's no one in a business suit in sight.

His phone rings as he sits down in his car. He checks the number, but it isn't one he knows.

He remembers what he said to Castiel last night, though.

 _"_ _You said you were trying to fit in with humans, trying to learn about us, right? Well, if you come across anything you're not sure how to do, call me. I can give you how-to-be-human lessons."_

"Yeah," he answers the phone.

"Dean." It's Cas. "You said to call if I had problems with human things."

"Yep."

"I'm...I'm attempting to acquire compact discs—"

"CDs, Cas, call them CDs. No one says 'compact discs.'"

"Yes, well, they're telling me I need money. Where can I get that?"

Dean bites his lips together to try to keep from laughing. He puts his forehead in his free hand and says, "Where are you, Cas?"

"Um, I can describe the place—"

"Just give me a street name. Are you too far from my apartment?"

"I don't believe so."

"Alright, tell me where you are, I'll head over."

Dean walks into the music store some twenty minutes later. Cas is standing by a shelf of CDs, looking bemused.

"I should've realized I would need money," Cas says when Dean approaches, "but it's been a long time since I've gotten anything from these...stores of yours."

"Well, the only way you get money is work, so you're out of luck, Cas. Or credit card scams," he adds with a shrug. "What do you need CDs for anyway?"

Cas's brows furrow. "That device you gave me when we were young. I think I've memorized all the songs you gave—"

"You still have that thing?" Dean asks incredulously.

"Yes. I keep it in an abandoned warehouse in Germany."

"And it still works?" Dean laughs.

"Well, it's broken a few times, but I taught myself how to fix it."

Dean shakes his head. "Okay, for that, I am buying you music. Find somethin' and I'll pay for it."

Cas pulls an album off the shelf in front of them and frowns at it. "I keep seeing this music by someone called The Black-Eyed Peas?"

" _No_ ," Dean states flatly, plucking the disc from him and putting it back on a shelf. "We do not consort with that type of music." He grabs Cas's arm and pulls him over to a different section of the store. "This is what you pick from."

Cas reads out some of the artists. "Metallica. AC/DC. Journey. Def Leppard. You gave me a lot of this the first time."

"Yes. That's because it's good." He turns away to look for cassette tapes for his car and, to his surprise, spots a Bob Seger album he doesn't have. He doesn't buy music often, but each time he does it gets harder to find cassette tapes.

"Is this what you call good?" Cas asks, presenting Dean with a Lynyrd Skynyrd album.

"I think...yeah, that's their '77 album. I'd recommend something older, but that one isn't bad."

When they're done, Dean has two cassette tapes and Cas has two CDs—one Guns n' Roses album and, to Dean's great chagrin, one Eminem album, which he insisted on for variety.

"So, Castiel," Dean says as they walk out of the store and before they part ways. He's been thinking about this ever since Cas called and he has a tiny tightness in his chest now that he's about to ask. "I was thinking—and, you know, this could be completely weird 'cause we were friends when we were younger and all—and feel free to tell me if that's the case—but I was wondering if...if you wanted to go out with me."

Cas looks back at the store with confusion. "But we are out. What do you mean?"

Dean cringes through a slight, amused smile. "N-no, Cas. I mean, do you want to go on a date with me? That's a thing humans do."

It takes Cas a moment, then he says, "Are suggesting you have a romantic attraction to me?"

Dean closes his eyes and puts his hands together in front of his face, almost as if praying. He taps his fingers against his nose for a second, then opens his eyes and lowers his hands. "Yes, Cas," he says flatly. "That's exactly what I'm suggesting." He shakes his head. "You know what, forget it. Forget I ever said anything. I didn't even bother to ask if you were into guys or not—"

"No, Dean," Cas says quickly. Then, more slowly and more quietly, "I would love to go on a date with you."

Dean looks up to him. "Really?"

Cas nods. "I think we both know there was something else we felt as children. It wasn't only friendship." He hesitates. "Am I wrong?"

"No," Dean says immediately. "No you're not. I just...I guess I didn't expect you to actually want to go out with me."

"Of course I do."

"Well, thanks, Cas. What do you want to do?"

He immediately looks put on the spot. "I—I don't know. What do humans usually do on a date?"

"Don't worry about it," Dean chuckles, patting Cas on the shoulder. "I'll figure something out, probably do dinner or something. How does six tomorrow sound? Call me at, like, five when I get off work and I'll tell you what the plan is."


	7. Chapter 7

The next day goes by ridiculously slowly and not without stress, since Dean hears rumor that his employer is very unhappy with his being late the previous day. Dean has never gotten along well with any employer he's ever had; he just doesn't work well with people having expectations of him, holding him to standards.

The call from Cas comes around five fifteen, just as Dean pulls up to his apartment.

"Y'know, it's hard to know if it's you calling when you keep using different phones," Dean says after the exchange of greetings that had let him know it was Cas.

"You know I don't have my own phone."

"Yeah, I'm just giving you a hard time. So here's the plan—"

"I can't."

"What?" Dean puts his car in park and turns the engine off.

"I—I can't make the date. I'm sorry."

Dean puts his head back against the headrest and looks up at the roof of his car. Cas is really going to ditch him again? Dean understands the whole angel thing, but why can't Cas keep an agreement? "Well—okay," he says, knowing his frustration shows through his tone.

"I'm really sorry, Dean. I did something heaven didn't like and the...the wings are back. We should hurry. I can't be at this phone long."

"Oh," Dean says, suddenly a lot less irritated. "What'd you do? If I can ask."

There's a pause before Cas answers. "I, uh…made a commitment I was specifically told not to. Then I actually _did_ what I committed to, so…you can see the problem."

"Just can't be a good little angel, huh? Well, just come over to my place, then. Unless you don't want to anymore. But we don't have to go anywhere."

"Alright," Cas says, sounding relieved. "Yes, I certainly still want to meet. Should I wait to come over?"

"Nah." Dean wasn't going to wear anything different anyway. He's a take-me-as-I-am-or-don't-take-me type. Now, his apartment is a mess, but he doesn't plan on being inside much. "You can come over now if you want. I'm just sitting in the driveway in Baby. I have an idea for what we could do, but we might want to wait until its dark for that."

"And what's that?" Cas asks from the passenger seat just as Dean hears the tone the means he hung up.

Dean can't hide the fact that he jumped about a foot. "Jesus Christ, Cas. A little warning next time, would you?"

"Sorry," he says, a little sheepish. "I forget you're not accustomed to that."

Dean pushes Cas's wing aside slightly so he can see him better. "So how are you today, angel boy?"

"I'm...doing well, actually. How are you, Dean?"

He shrugs. "Oh, you know. It's all good." He opens the car door. "Come on, I have something to show you."

Once he manages to convince Cas that no one is around to see his wings, he leads him to the side of the old brick apartment building, where a maintenance ladder of sorts leads to the roof.

"Now don't tell my landlord I do this," Dean says, starting up the ladder, "but I figured out this was here a few weeks after I moved. I've been going up every now and then ever since."

Naturally, Cas is already at the top when Dean climbs off the ladder.

"Not sure what's so appealing about humans when you can do stuff like that," Dean says, shaking his head. He turns to the edge of the roof and looks out across the rooves of the surrounding buildings. Most of them aren't any taller than his two-story apartment. "It's a great view of the buildings that somehow manage to be uglier than my apartment," Dean says in good humor but with a hint of bitterness. He leans forward on the short wall that separates him from the twenty-five foot drop to the ground.

Cas steps up beside him and looks over at him. "Are you unhappy here?"

Dean shrugs. "No. Not really. It's just...I guess it's not the life I thought I would live. I mean, I'm a mechanic; I work in a cheap auto shop. I like working on cars, as you know—it's very hands-on, very concrete—but I make thirty-two thousand a year." He glances over at Cas. "That's not very much by human standards, by the way. I wanted to live in Philadelphia, but it was too damn expensive, so I ended up over here in this dump. I'm not unhappy. Just...dissatisfied, I guess. I thought...I thought my life would have more meaning." He shakes his head and shrugs again. "It's fine, though. What's heaven like? Is it nice?"

Cas pauses for a moment as if analyzing Dean. Then he says slowly, looking out at the town, "It can be. But it's really meant to be nice for humans. For angels, it's more of a...workplace. It's very clean, even beautiful at times. But it's formal and...uniform. Your world has so much more variation and vibrancy."

"I think I can see that."

"It's not just that aspect, though. It's you. You humans. All the things you create and do and—and feel. There's so _much_ to being human." He looks down at his forearms and the symbols burned into them. "Being an angel is so simple. Do as you're told or be punished."

Dean reaches over and takes Cas's hand, lacing their fingers together like they used to when they were young. "You'll figure it out. The human thing, I mean. Spend long enough around us, we'll rub off on you."

Cas nods, but he frowns as if he knows something Dean doesn't.

"Heaven...doesn't care that you're down here, right?" Dean asks.

"Not exactly," Cas says quickly. "I mean, it's not like they'll stop me. They just want to ensure I remember what I am." He shifts his wings. "While I want to forget."

"Okay, this was supposed to be a date, not a...two-way counseling session. I like you the way you are, by the way. I'm gonna go down and get some beers."

They pass the next hour and a half by trying—sometimes failing—to make normal conversation. Dean is accustomed to not talking much about his work because most people find it horribly boring, but Cas is fascinated. When he gets completely confused by Dean's explanation of a car's engine, the two go down to the driveway and Dean shows him the different components of Baby.

As the sun starts to set and they're back on the roof, Dean says, "Hey, you should go get that old CD player. I still can't really believe you have the thing."

When he gets no response, he glances over at Cas. He's gone.

Dean rolls his eyes and finishes the last of his beer. By the time he lowers the bottle, Cas is next to him again, holding the old black CD player and headphones. In the other hand, he holds a stack of CDs.

"Wow," Dean says, taking the CDs. He moves the two new ones off the pile and flips through the other three, which he still remembers having given Cas that Christmas. Def Leppard, Led Zeppelin, and Metallica.

"I don't think these work as well as they used to," Cas says, holding up the headphones.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Dean says, trading Cas the CDs for the player and headphones. He checks to see if there's a CD inside—Guns n' Roses—and puts the headphones on. He turns it on and hits play. As "Yesterdays" starts to play out of only one side of the headphones, he can't help but laugh slightly. "It works. It still works. Cas, why did you keep this?"

He shrugs, but he's smiling as he watches Dean. "It was the only real possession I ever had. And it was a gift. I'd never gotten a gift—it only seemed natural that I kept it."

Dean shakes his head, still smiling as he stops the music and takes the headphones off. "Let me run down and grab some better headphones."

When he gets back, the two sit side-by-side on the locked metal box on Dean's roof, each with one earbud, listening to the least romantic of music as the sun goes down.

"Hey you," Dean says, pulling out his earbud after a few minutes of silence. "The wings are still around. You wanna try usin' them?"

Cas removes his earbud, frowning, and hands it to Dean. "What? What do you mean?"

"Well, you said you'd never really gotten to fly. But you still have wings and it's dark, no one will see, so..." He shrugs. "You seem so insecure about them. Why not see the bright side? Humans _dream_ of flying like that."

Cas stands, but crosses his arms, looking uncertain. "I...I wouldn't even know where to start."

"I suggest you start with the wings," Dean says with a smirk.

He gets an annoyed glance. Cas slowly extends his wings, which Dean can't help but admire, even in the dim light, as they stretch out majestically in front of him.

"Am I going to hit you?" Cas asks, glancing back.

"Nah, you're good. Go for it."

Shaking his head, Cas starts to flap his wings. They create a powerful noise and move a lot of air, but don't seem to come near lifting him.

"Maybe...maybe I can't," Cas realizes as his wings settle. "That would be too good; it would ruin the punishment."

"Jesus, don't give up yet," Dean says, standing and stepping forward. "You're afraid. I get it. Well, I kind of get it. But this could be the coolest thing you've ever done—and I've ever seen." He gives Cas a pat on the shoulder and passes him to stand at the edge of the roof. "C'mere."

Cas still has his wings partially unfurled and his right brushes Dean's back as he steps up next to him.

"Cas, do angels have super Wolverine healing?"

"What?"

Dean sighs. "Do you get hurt easily?"

"No, I heal almost instantly, w-"

"Thought so. Stand right here," he says, patting the wall at the edge of the roof.

Cas gives him a suspicious look, but he does as he's told.

"How much do you trust yourself?" Dean asks, looking up at Cas now that he's a good three feet taller.

The angel frowns, finally getting an idea of what Dean's suggesting. "N—no. Not that much."

"How much do you trust _me_?"

"Um. More than I trust anyone. What does that have to do with it?"

"Because I trust you can do this," Dean says, then reaches up to the middle of Cas's back and shoves him off the roof.

He falls for less than a second before his wings start to flap and catch him. By the time he touches the ground, it's lightly, as if he could've just hovered there.

Dean can see Cas's silhouette in the streetlights, but he can't see his face very well. "That help at all?" he asks with a grin. He hopes Cas isn't irritated with him, but then again, he's never known Castiel to be irritated about anything.

"Dean Winchester," Cas says firmly but with a hint of amusement. "You..."

Dean cringes, chuckling a bit, and backs away to get out of Cas's sight. There's a pause and he's about to step forward again when he hears the loud flapping of wings and Cas rises up in front of him.

"I think you shouldn't do that again," Cas says with an exhilarated smile as he drops onto the roof beside Dean. His landing is a bit rough and Dean grabs his upper arm to help steady him. Even in the sharp, April-evening air, he's warm to the touch and completely free of goosebumps.

"It's about time you taught heaven a lesson, huh?" Dean can't help that he's grinning.

"Thank you, Dean," Cas says with a smile.

Dean realizes they're standing close together, almost close enough to transition to—

Whether Cas senses this or not, he suddenly looks down and steps back. "Why did you think that would work?" he asks.

It takes Dean a second to pull his mind away from the imagined moment. "Uh, I didn't. That's why I asked if you healed easily. But come on, it's what they always do in movies. Enough adrenaline and instinct kicks in..." He shrugs. "And it works." He looks up with a smirk. "Did I kill that trust you mentioned?"

Cas chuckles—a sound Dean realizes he doesn't hear often—and shakes his head. "No. You might've done just the opposite." With that, he steps up onto the edge of the roof again and lets himself fall.

He disappears over the edge for barely a second before shooting back up, high into the air above Dean. Then, slowing his wingbeats, he lets himself fall back to the roof. He steps up to Dean, and, to Dean's great surprise, puts his arms around his waist.

"Put your arms around my neck," he says, looking at Dean with an ill-disguised smile.

"What?" Dean asks, but starts to do so. "Wait—you're not going to—"

Then Cas takes off.

Dean tightens his hold around Cas as his heartbeat triples. "C—Cas—I don't like heights."

Cas hovers—during which they still bob up and down slightly—and leans away enough to look at Dean with a small frown. "But you were on the roof."

"Different," Dean manages in a panic, looking down at the distance to the ground—some thirty-five feet or so. "That's different."

"Dean," Cas says, his tone surprisingly soft and calming, "don't look down. Look at me."

Still tight with anxiety, Dean slowly looks away from the ground and up to Cas's face.

"Relax," Cas tells him, "I've got you."

Dean focuses on Cas's dark eyes, trying to slow his breathing. "I trust you, Cas. I really do," he says tightly. "But I swear to God I feel like I'm gonna fall."

"Hold on," Cas says, then drops a few inches and scoops Dean up under the knees.

"Jesus Christ," Dean says, panicked at first but then finding himself laughing. "You've got to be kidding."

"Is something wrong?" Cas asks with a frown.

"No," Dean laughs, "you're just so damn… _unintentionally romantic._ "

Cas smiles slightly, as if he's not sure if that's a good thing or not.

"Can you see Philadelphia from here?" Dean asks, trying to twist around to see.

Without speaking, Cas flaps a little harder and rises up a few more yards. Sure enough, all the little lights—and the smoggy haze—are visible over the river. It's undeniably incredible.

"This…" Cas says in awe, "this is why I love humans. Look at what you can create."

"It's pretty awesome," Dean admits with a smile. He glances up at Cas, but sees that his expression has turned to fear.

"Dammit," Cas says quietly, then tucks his wings and drops.

When they're just about to hit the roof again, his wings swing powerful circles and slow them down before they drop a few inches to the cement. He lets go of Dean's legs to let him stand.

"I'm sorry," Cas says, letting go of Dean. Then his wings disappear. "I thought we were going to fall—" He stops, puzzled, as Dean starts to laugh. "Why—what are you—"

"I don't know," Dean says, trying to catch his breath. "It just damn figures."

"I—I don't understand."

"I don't either," Dean replies.

"But—I could've hurt you—"

"Angel boy," Dean interrupts, putting his arms around Cas and pulling him close, "get over yourself." Then he kisses him.

When a few seconds go by and Cas just stands there, completely still, Dean leans away.

"Cas, have you ever kissed anyone before?"

He shakes his head.

Dean bites his lip, then says, "Okay, it's a thing humans do. You're supposed to do…like what I was trying to do."

Hesitantly, Cas leans in until their lips meet. After a moment, he picks up on what Dean's doing and starts to return the kiss.

When they part, Cas looks down and says quietly, "I feel like I'm always messing up with you, Dean."

"You are," Dean says with a nod. When Cas looks up, confused and self-conscious, Dean continues, "That's what I love about you. You're completely unique, Cas."

"I've—I've always just wanted to fit in."

"Don't. They say all that crap about 'be yourself' and whatever. It sounds fluffy, but it's kind of true. Don't change."

"Thank you, Dean."

"You keep saying that. I'm just giving you my two cents."

"Either way," Cas says. He pulls his arms away from where they'd been wrapped around Dean. "I should go. The wings going away is usually a signal for me to return to heaven."

Dean nods. Though they've been together for hours, he feels like the date has just started. "Don't let 'em boss you around up there too much, okay?"

Cas frowns. "I can—I can try."

"Come on, you're a fully-fledged angel by now, right? They don't have that much power over you."

Cas looks down at his forearms.

"Well, other than that."

"Usually heaven commands and controls soldiers their entire lives."

Dean looks at him for a moment. "Well, maybe you should break some molds." He steps forward and gives Cas a hug. "Good night, Cas. I don't think I'll see you tomorrow because I have shit to do, but Thursday once I get off work, call me."

"I will. I appreciate everything you've done this evening."

"Sure. Next time, don't irritate heaven right before our date. At some point I'm taking you out to dinner."


	8. Chapter 8

The dinner date find its way to them, but it's not until a few weeks later. Dean spends his next few days trying to be a good employee: getting to work early, fixing vehicles as efficiently as possible, even staying a little late to try to get someone's car back to them before the end of the day.

He uses up most of his free time, on the other hand, with Cas. Cas is able to call about every other evening after Dean gets off work. Sometimes the two spend the evening doing something together—anything from Dean teaching Cas how to check the oil on a car to the two going to see some crappy movie together—and sometimes they just spend half an hour talking over the phone. One weekend, Dean takes Cas out to lunch to introduce him to his favorite food: burgers. It's not the romantic date he had planned for a dinner, but it was terribly amusing to watch Cas frown at the components of the burger and examine the grease that soaked into the bottom of his container of fries.

How they spend their time is highly dependent on whether or not Castiel has wings. As the weeks go on, it starts to happen more often, maybe every third call he makes, it's to tell Dean they can't go out. It becomes routine; when Cas has wings, they stay at Dean's apartment after dark and go up to the rooftop, from which Cas would do a lot of flying. There were a number of times Cas would land next to Dean, they'd embrace and sometimes kiss, and Cas would fly them both up into the air.

Dean Winchester had never found a relationship so easy. He hadn't been in many relationships for longer than about a month, but he remembers the ones he's had as being much harder to work with than this. Yes, he and Cas had misunderstandings and maybe one or two minor disagreements, but they were never hard to work around. Maybe because Cas was so sensitive to how Dean was feeling, often worrying far more than he needed to, or maybe just because something about their personalities worked. Either way, it became the highlight of Dean's year.

When it occurs to Dean how he wants to introduce Cas to the idea of a formal dinner date, he knows he's going to have to plan carefully.

He's not made of money. Dinners at nice restaurants are not his specialty. If he wants to make it work, he's going to have to save money for at least a week.

"So Cas, I have a plan," he says one Wednesday afternoon when Cas calls him after work. Apparently Cas has a phone of his own now, which Dean is a little skeptical of since he doesn't know how Cas scraped up the money for one, much less the data plan.

"Absolutely," Cas says from the other line.

"We're going out on Saturday. I assume you don't have any heavenly plans for then?"

"I don't have to."

"Okay. Well, Saturday. Seven. Meet me at my place, but we're finally gonna do that dinner date I promised. Have you ever gone to a formal event? Or—seen one?"

"I don't believe so. Is there something I should know?"

Dean smirks even though Cas can't see him. "Castiel, we're going to get you a tux."

vvv

The next day at five, the two go together to a tuxedo rental place at the edge of Philly. Cas doesn't seem to understand the different between the suit and skinny tie that he always wears and the tuxedos with bow ties that fill the store.

"I'm no clothing expert, but _this_ —" he gestures to Cas's suit, "—says business. _These_ —" he gestures around them, "—say formal dinner. Or dance."

"Humans are complicated," Cas says with a frown, and Dean laughs.

It takes them about a half hour to get Cas fitted with a suit that's cheap enough for Dean to rent but doesn't look bad.

"What about you?" Cas asks as they leave.

"Oh, I've got an old thing I'll wear. I really hate tuxes, actually, and bow ties drive me nuts. But ya gotta have something."

"I'd love to see you in one," Cas says, glancing at him sidelong with a small smile.

Dean snorts. "I think I look terrible in them. But just wait, you'll see me on Saturday."

vvv

The angel arrives precisely at seven on Saturday. Dean kept the tuxedo they'd rented so they can both change in the apartment before heading off.

"How ya doing, Cas?" Dean asks as he invites him into the apartment.

"I'm nervous," Cas admits with a small frown. "I don't know what to expect."

"Oh, you're fine." Dean gives him a brief, one-armed hug and a pat on the front of the chest with his other hand. "Just be you, you can't mess it up."

"I can mess anything up," Cas says with an amused smile. It's become something of a joke between them, which seems to have made Cas less insecure about it.

"Possibly true," Dean says, letting go of him. He grabs Cas's tux and hands it to him. "Go get changed, angel boy."

Dean lets Cas have the bathroom to change while he goes to his bedroom to dig out his old tux. He spends a few minutes swearing at it because he thinks tuxedos are ridiculous, then decides to shut up and deal with it because he's about to go on a date with Cas, which has turned into his single favorite activity.

He's done before Cas is and waits in the living room for him. His phone starts to buzz with a call, but he ignores it. Now's not the time.

Castiel steps out of the bathroom and Dean swears to God his heart skips a beat.

Cas looks nervous, that did-I-do-everything-right expression he gets so often, but it doesn't even matter if he did. Though his tie is very crooked and the top button of his shirt is undone, he looks amazing. His hair is combed over for once, though without product it still looks slightly messy, and the black of his tuxedo seems to bring out the blue in his eyes.

"Dean, you look…incredible."

"Yeah…" he says slowly, completely not paying attention. "Wait, what? Me?"

Cas nods. "Of course you."

"Oh. Thanks. I didn't even do anything but change. I should've shaved earlier, but I forgot—"

"You look great as you are. Really." Cas looks down at himself. "Did I do everything right?"

Dean smiles and steps over to him. "Almost." He buttons the top button of Cas's shirt and adjusts his tie. "There. You're amazing, Cas, I need to rent you a tux more often."

He looks uncertain, but he gives Dean a smile.

"Come on," Dean says. He gives his boyfriend a quick kiss on the cheek. "Let's go."

vvv

Dean can tell as they head toward Philadelphia listening to Ozzy Osbourne that Cas is nervous. He fidgets slightly and is unusually quiet, so Dean tries to make conversation.

"I met a guy named Crowley once."

Cas looks over, confused. "What?"

"Oh, this song. It's called Mr. Crowley. I met a Crowley once in a bar called Crossroads. He was super flirtatious, but I don't think he actually liked me. He wanted something from me. Not sure what; I never agreed."

"Why are you talking about this?" Cas asks, puzzled.

Dean shakes his head. "I'm just making conversation. You're nervous, Cas, but you won't mess this up. I'm used to you, remember?"

Cas just nods.

"Unless there's something else you're thinking about."

"No," Cas says, looking out his side window. "I'm just never certain when the angels in heaven are going to intervene."

"Well, have you pissed them off lately?"

"I don't believe so."

"Don't worry about it. And if they decide it's time for wings, we'll skedaddle."

This seems to console him to some degree and he fidgets a little less for the rest of the drive. But Dean can't shake the feeling Cas is keeping something from him.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I'm sorry, I've been completely forgetting to update this. I'll just dump all the rest of it so you guys don't have to wait any longer. And let me know what you think of it!**

Cas seems in awe when they arrive at the restaurant. Dean can't exactly blame him; he chose well.

An indoor fountain decorates the inside near the door. The place is dimly lit and each dark-wooded table has a small candle in the center. Dean's never actually been to a restaurant this nice and he's not entirely sure how to deal with it.

"Just the two of you, I take it?" the woman at the front asks.

"You got it," Dean answers.

"Right this way," she says, grabbing menus and leading them back toward the table.

Cas leans slightly closer to Dean to say, "This is very different than the previous restaurant you took me to."

Dean scoffs. "Oh, yeah. This is formal dining, my friend." He lowers his voice a bit and adds, "I've never actually been to a place this nice, either, so I know how you feel."

"Here you are," the woman says, presenting them with a table for two.

"Thanks," Dean says to her as he seats himself.

Cas smiles and nods as well and sits across from Dean.

"Anything like you expected?" Dean asks, smiling as he watches Cas look around at it all.

"I don't know that I had an expectation," Cas says, his gaze finally settling on Dean.

Dean picks up a menu and starts to scan through options. "Wow. I mean, I knew this place specialized in steaks, but…wow."

"Humans put a lot of time into food," Cas comments, his brows furrowed at the menu.

"Angels must not, then? I guess that makes sense. We love our food."

"Angels don't have to eat," Cas says, looking up.

Dean glances up, incredulous. "What?"

He nods. "Do you remember how I looked at those cookies you brought me on Christmas in 1991?"

"Was that our first Christmas? Yeah. I do, vaguely."

"I'd never seen food before. I'd certainly never eaten."

Dean stares at him. "I mean, I figured life as an angel sucked, but that's just…cruelty."

A waitress comes up to their table, carrying glasses with lemon slices and a jug of water. She's younger and blonder than the previous woman. She greets them and introduces herself, the typical spiel. After she takes their drink orders, Dean gives her a wink as she leaves.

He realizes his mistake immediately and guiltily looks over at Cas.

To his surprise, Cas just looks amused. "Do you flirt with everyone?"

"The attractive ones."

Cas shakes his head, still smiling. "How'd you end up with me, then?"

"Oh good Lord, Cas, you're beautiful." He feels his cheeks warm up slightly and he hopes he's not blushing. "I mean, it sounds cheesy, but—it's true."

"Thanks," Cas says, surprised.

The night seems to pass faster than Dean realizes. He and Cas make conversation nearly the whole time, talking about anything and everything. They talk about what Cas does in his free time—tries to spend it around humans or, more recently, reading—and what he does when he's in heaven—keeps everyone's 'individual heavens' in order or goes to eliminate the occasional threat from demons.

"Wait, so demons are a thing too?"

Cas nods. "I'm not very familiar with them. I only encounter them twice or three times a year."

"So there's a hell, I'm guessing?"

"Yes. Some angels have been there, but I haven't yet."

"Well shit, I know where I'm goin' when I die."

"I doubt it. Not from what I know about you, Dean."

Dean cocks an eyebrow and smirks. "What, the gays and bisexuals don't go to hell?"

Cas shakes his head. "No. Not for that. You would've had to actually do something hell-worthy. If I had any influence, I'd assure you went to heaven anyway, but…I really don't."

"You know, this is kind of morbid that we're talking about where I'll go when I die. Do angels die?"

Cas nods. "We can. We naturally live to about a hundred and twenty. Except the archangels and Lucifer. They'll live until they're killed."

Dean raises his eyebrows. "Wow, Cas, you'll outlive me by a lot. With all of my clogged arteries, I won't live past seventy." He grabs the dessert menu. "How about some sugar on top of that?"

They're still waiting for their dessert when it occurs to Dean to ask about something he's been thinking of repeatedly.

"So Cas. When we were young, when I first told you my family was moving, you did something weird. You made my chest hurt really bad, but you never told me what you actually did."

"Oh," Cas says, surprised. "I…I carved Enochian symbols into your ribs."

Dean looks at him for a long time. "You what? Why?"

Cas starts to get uncomfortable, which isn't what Dean intended, but seems to happen a lot. "I was…I was afraid back then that heaven would take an interest in you. They didn't want me spending as much time around you when I was at such an impressionable age. I couldn't risk you getting hurt because of me, so I did it to hide you from them." When Dean looks confused, Cas adds, "Normally angels can track any human at any time. I always found you at the bridge, right? The symbols kept you from being detected, including from me. That's why we lost touch for so many years."

It takes Dean a moment to consider all this. "Your issues with heaven have been going on since then? I guess I knew that."

"I spent a few years of my adolescence staying in heaven, doing what I was told. But I just…I've just never been able to take it up there." He absently turns his water glass. "I'd only been down again for about a year when we ran into each other. I've always associated the human world with you, Dean."

"Sorry," Dean jokes. "But I'm curious, would angels still be…'interested' in me? I swear I saw someone in a business suit staring at me a few weeks ago, but I looked again and she was gone. Like you can do."

Something flashes through Cas's expression, either anger or fear or both. "Have you seen anything since?"

"No," Dean says slowly. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"I…." Cas winces and stands up. "I'm sorry, Dean, you'll have to excuse me."

vvvv

Cas rushes to the bathroom because he knows this isn't going to be the wings. The old scars on his arms are burning, searing.

He bursts into the bathroom—which is just as nice as the rest of restaurant but much more empty—and immediately pulls up his sleeve. The symbols are glowing. He's only seen this happen one other time.

The pain escalates until Cas is doubled over, clutching the sink, trying to breathe.

Then it stops.

He looks up, catching his breath, and sees in the mirror that someone is standing behind him.

"Naomi," he says, spinning around. "What are you doing here?"

"You know why I'm here, Castiel."

He stands still, watching her warily, and says nothing.

"This has to stop. We've been telling you for weeks now. For years, really." She crosses her arms. "You are an angel. It's your duty to heaven to do the work of an angel. You can't pretend to be anything else, Castiel. You will always be an outcast in the human world and you know that."

Cas remains unmoving. "It might help if I didn't have these symbols on my arms. Without wings, I'd pass as human a lot better."

"And that's why you have them." Naomi uncrosses her arms and steps forward. "Every angel in heaven has their place. You're important. It's a privilege to be an angel; we have power humans could never imagine. But your place is not to consort with humans—to _have dinner_ with them. This has to stop, before everything gets a lot worse for you. And for Dean Winchester."

Cas feels something tighten in his gut. He narrows his eyes and takes a step closer to her. When he speaks, his tone is low and threatening. "If anyone in heaven _dares_ lay a finger on him—"

"What will you do, Castiel? What can you possibly do? You have no power in heaven, you've made sure of that."

"I had no choice, I was raised into this," Cas says bitterly. "My actions make no difference for my position in heaven. Everyone is created for a specific purpose and mine was to blindly follow orders." His aggressive posture fades. "Look around you, Naomi. Have you ever truly seen their world? We have so much to learn from them."

"We need _nothing_ from them. You mean so much more than them. You have a role, a purpose. They wander around aimlessly, believing things that aren't true, building things that only fall over time. You don't want to be like them."

Cas shakes his head. "I don't mean anything more than they do, and I do want to be like them. I can't. I know that. But at least let me experience what they experience, at least let me _be with him._ "

Naomi just shakes her head. "We've had a lot of patience for you. Really, we have. But if you continue, you will endure a kind of punishment you can't imagine. We can hurt you, Castiel. Tonight is only a warning."

He opens his mouth to speak, but she's already gone.

vvvv

"Dean, we have to go. Now."

Dean looks up from where he'd idly been examining a spoon. "Why? What's wrong? Wings?"

Cas shakes his head. He looks…scared. "No. I'm sorry, I really am. But we need to go."

"Okay, okay." He digs the car keys out of his pocket and tosses them to Cas. "Go get in the car, I'll pay early."

Dean tells the restaurant to cancel the dessert and pays before heading out to Cas.

He gets in the car, where the angel is already sitting in passenger seat.

"Well? Are you gonna tell me what happened in there?"

Cas remains silent for a long time.

"You're scared, Cas. I can see it. Whatever happened in there was important, you can't just hide this from me."

Cas takes a deep breath. "I got a visit from another angel."

"Okay, and?"

"I'm…I'm failing my duties to heaven. She was there to deliver a threat." He looks over and sees Dean's insistent expression. "It was vague, she didn't say exactly what they'd do."

"So what can you do to fix it? Are you in danger?"

Cas shakes his head. "Let's just return to your apartment. I don't want her to come back. There's nothing I can do about it right now."

Dean takes a moment of watching Cas before he decides to comply and not ask any more questions.

They make it back to apartment without anything else spoken between them. Dean's not sure if he's angry at Cas or just concerned. The angel seems shaken, which makes Dean feel bad, but he also feels like he's not getting as much information about this as he should. Honestly, he's worried. How far can Cas stretch heaven's patience? What happens to him when it breaks?


	10. Chapter 10

Dean feels dissatisfied as he parks his car and he and his boyfriend head into the apartment. Despite everything he'd said earlier, Cas had, in a sense, managed to mess up that date. It wasn't really his fault and Dean isn't going to say anything about it, but it wasn't exactly the evening Dean had hoped for.

He strips off his tie as soon as he gets through the door and tosses it onto the couch next to where Cas sits shortly afterward, silent.

"You okay?" Dean asks.

"Currently, yes."

He pauses. "So what d'you want to do?"

Cas shakes his head. "I should probably leave, but I'm not sure."

"Well, don't go unless you have to. You know you're always welcome here."

Cas puts his face in his hands. "I don't know if avoiding heaven is the solution or if I'm better off approaching them. I've always hoped that eventually they'd just…give up on me. But they haven't yet."

"What do you _want_ to do?" Dean grabs his tie off the couch and sits next to Cas.

"Avoid them. I still want to spend the evening with you, Dean, but I don't know if that's wise."

"Are we in danger if you stay?"

Cas looks up again and gives a small shrug. "I don't know. I don't think so, she said tonight was a warning."

Dean gives Cas a pat on the shoulder and stands up. "It's up to you." He goes to his bedroom to grab his iPod before reemerging and asking, "Can you do anything to make it up to them tomorrow?"

"I'll figure something out. I shouldn't make it your concern." He puts his head in one hand and closes his eyes, thinking.

Dean plugs the iPod into his parents' old speakers, which he has set up in the living room but barely ever uses. He selects a set of music that he doesn't usually listen to, but it seems more appropriate than Metallica or Lynyrd Skynyrd. The first song that plays is "You're My Best Friend" by Queen.

He sits down next to Cas and waits for some kind of response from him. The angel remains silent, eyes closed.

Wondering if maybe he should give Cas a moment, Dean checks his phone for the call he missed earlier. The caller ID reads "Dad."

 _Son of a bitch._

The one time his dad finally calls and he ignored it because he was waiting for Cas. He doesn't hold any bitterness toward Cas for it, of course, but it still pisses him off that he missed it.

Dean takes a breath. Now's not the time. Cas needs him right now, whether he'll admit it or not.

He looks over at his boyfriend and stands up again, then puts a hand on Cas's shoulder. He looks up. Dean raises his eyebrows in a silent _are you okay?_ as his hand trails down Cas's arm and to his hand.

A tiny shake of the head. _Not really._

He pulls the angel to his feet and puts his arms around his lower back. "Do you know how to dance, Cas?"

Cas frowns and cocks his head to the side. "No."

"Good, 'cause neither do I. Put your arms around me."

Hesitantly, Cas does so, but he stays still.

"I'm making this up as I go," Dean says. "Just move to the music with me and we'll call it close enough."

Cas picks up on it quickly, but Dean can tell he's still distracted.

"Cas," Dean says softly, "let it go. Whatever it is, you'll figure it out."

The song comes to an end and Cas stops, looking down at Dean's collar instead of his eyes. "I wish there was an easy solution. I wish I could just forget heaven. I don't want you to have to put up with my…my bullshit all the time."

The next song starts and Dean wonders why the hell it's on this playlist. Here I Go Again by Whitesnake.

"Cas, I don't care. I know you're so afraid of me deciding I hate you because of this, but it's not gonna happen. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm kind of fond of you. I mean, I love you. I think you know that. Do whatever you have to to keep those angels off your ass, but don't worry about me."

Cas shakes his head and smiles slightly. "I have no idea how I was lucky enough to run across you, Dean Winchester."

Dean rolls his eyes and smiles. "Oh, shut up." He takes Cas's hands as the song starts to pick up. "Just dance with me, angel boy."

Here I Go Again is a terrible song to dance to, really, but it just makes it all the more hilarious to try. By the time the song ends, both Dean and Cas are laughing.

"Don't ever try to dance in public," Dean says, grinning. "I'm not a good role model."

Smiling, Cas shakes his head and leans forward to give Dean a kiss.

They're still lightly pressed together as the next song starts. Dean pulls away with an embarrassed smile.

"Oh, god, no. This song is so cheesy." Love of a Lifetime by Firehouse. He goes to skip it, but Cas catches his hand.

"Just leave it," he chuckles. He puts an arm around Dean and pulls him close. Reluctantly, Dean grabs Cas's left hand with his right and raises it to the height of their shoulders.

 _With you I never wonder, 'will you be there for me?'_

 _With you I never wonder; you're the right one for me._

As the song continues, Dean isn't sure when they're slow dancing, hugging, kissing, or some combination of all of them. When the song winds down to an end and the last guitar chord plays, Cas and Dean are standing in the middle of the room with their foreheads nearly touching, almost kissing. Dean's never been this close to Cas for this long and he realizes just then how much he loves this angel— _his_ angel—and his beautiful personality.

"You feel better?" Dean asks quietly as he reaches up to undo Cas's tie. Def Leppard has already started playing, but neither of them move.

"You have no idea," Cas replies with a slight smile.

"That's what I'm here for," Dean says. "Boyfriend or not, I'm still here to be your best friend. Cheer you up when you need it."

"You are my best friend. You're my only friend."

"So I'm the worst, too," Dean smirks, unbuttoning the top button on Cas's shirt.

"Absolutely," Cas answers and gives Dean a kiss.

While they kiss, Dean slowly undoes each of the buttons on Cas's dress shirt. The angel doesn't resist or ask what he's doing. Finally, this seems to be something he'll let Dean lead with without stopping to ask what's going on.

Dean grabs Cas's hand and takes him to the bedroom—leaving the music playing to the empty living room—then shrugs out of his suit coat and tosses it aside. He takes Castiel's hand again and laces their fingers together, then puts his other hand on the side of Cas's neck and kisses him. His hand slides from Cas's neck and down the front of his chest, settling under his open shirt on his hip. Hesitantly, Cas pulls Dean's shirt away from where it had been tucked into his pants and slips his hand up to the middle of Dean's back.

When they part, Dean unbuttons the top of his shirt and tugs it off over his head. "I'm going to make the very safe assumption that you've never had sex before," he says quietly with a smile, running his hands across Cas's shoulders to push his suit coat and shirt off.

Cas nods, pulling his arms out of the ends of the shirt sleeves.

"Do you want to?" Dean asks, putting his arms around Cas's neck.

"Yes," Cas answers, running the back of his fingers down the side of Dean's face. "Of course."

Dean smiles and kisses him, pushing him back onto the bed. As he settles on top of him, he feels Cas flinch.

"What?" Dean asks, confused, holding himself off Cas with his arms.

"I think—" Cas looks nauseous and Dean shifts off of him so he can sit up.

"Are you okay?"

Then Cas's wings spring into existence. They seem huge in the bedroom; one is folded and hangs over the edge of the bed, but the other has to be partially spread while he's sitting.

Cas immediately looks dispirited, but Dean laughs. Cas looks up.

"That's going to make things interesting," Dean says. "You good?"

Cas nods, still a little confused, and Dean puts a hand on his chest to push him back to the bed. His wings rest to either side of them.

"It doesn't matter, Cas," Dean says, holding himself on his elbows and running a hand through Cas's hair. "I said it earlier, but I love you. With or without the wings." He leans down to give him a short kiss. "And we're definitely still having sex."

Cas smiles and puts his arms around Dean's back. "I love you too, Dean. I…haven't gotten to say that, but I do."

"I know you do." And he leans down again to commit himself to loving his angel.

vvv

Having sex with a winged angel has its complications.

At one point, Dean tries to roll the two of them over, only to roll onto Cas's wing, pinning him down.

"Oh, shit, sorry. Did that hurt?"

"No," Cas laughs, shifting his wing out of the way and laying on top of Dean.

"Well, now you're on top and you stay on top."

They take it slowly but not without passion. For all Dean's love of Cas, he realizes he'd underestimated the angel's ability to have sex. Dean has had sex with far more experienced men and women and enjoyed it much less.

When they're done, Cas moves off Dean and lies on his side next to him, his wings spread out behind him. The two men are still working on catching their breath.

"Was that alright?" Cas asks after a moment.

Dean shifts to his side to face him. "That was amazing," he says with a smile. He moves his head forward on the pillow to give Cas a kiss. "Now, if I lay on my back, you're gonna do that thing where you put your head on my chest, right?" he asks as he rolls to his back.

"Maybe," Cas replies with an amused smile as he does exactly that, laying his head on the front of Dean's shoulder and putting a hand on his chest.

Dean smiles and rests an arm over Cas, stroking his wing. His feathers are light and downey near his shoulder but get sleek and smooth near his lower back. How heaven can have Cas trained to think such beautiful things are a punishment, Dean isn't sure.

Dean tips his head to the side so that his chin rests in Cas's hair. Cas always smells fresh, like he's just gotten out of the shower, but with a hint of his own scent underneath. Dean couldn't fully pinpoint or describe either, but to him it smells like heaven.

Maybe it literally does.

With his eyes closed, Dean is nearly asleep when it happens.

Cas tenses suddenly and takes a sharp inhale, as if in pain.

Dean opens his eyes and looks down at him. "Cas?"

Cas shakes his head, his face tight with pain. He pulls away from Dean, curling into a fetal position with some escalating agony that Dean can't fathom the source of.

"Cas? Cas, what's wrong?"

His only response is to cry out, and over the sound of the angel's pain, Dean can hear what must be bones breaking.

They're breaking his wings.

Dean sits up and puts one hand on Cas's shoulder, using the other to shakily stroke his hair. He feels panicked and helpless as he watches his boyfriend flinch, gasping, under the pain.

"Cas, I'm sorry," Dean says, almost more to himself since he knows the angel can't be listening. "Why do they do this to you?"

After a few more seconds, Cas goes still, breathing heavily, his whole body tensed. His eyes are shut tightly, though a few tears have slipped down his face.

"Cas?"

He nods slightly. He's slowly getting less tense, but he keeps his eyes closed and his eyebrows remain contorted with pain. "The wings," he whispers.

"I know," Dean says softly. He reaches out and gingerly touches one of the misshapen wings. Though he swore his touch as was light as possible, Cas flinches. "What should I do?" Dean asks, his fear returning. He gets off the bed and starts to pull on his underwear and pants. "I can call an ambulance, but what the hell will they think? But I can't just leave you—"

"Dean," Cas says. Dean realizes he's been saying his name repeatedly but only now is loud enough to catch Dean's attention. Cas looks at him, pain still written all over his face. "There's something I need to tell you," he manages quietly.

Dean frowns as he does the button on his pants. He sits on the bed again and carefully moves Cas's head into his lap. The angel is still lying on his side, his broken wings resting on the bed behind him, but he can turn his head enough to look up at Dean.

"I haven't been completely honestly with you," Cas says softly. His voice is so full of pain and regret that it almost makes Dean physically hurt. "I think…I think you know that. And I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I just couldn't let you know…I couldn't…." His voice becomes choked and he winces, taking a deep breath.

"It's okay," Dean says. "Just tell me."

Cas reaches up and touches the side of Dean's face with an unsteady hand. "It's you," he whispers.

"What?"

"It's always been you." He lowers his hand. "Every punishment I've ever endured—it's not just because I'm here with humans. It's not just because I'm failing heaven. It is that, but mainly it's because I'm with you." He closes his eyes but keeps talking. "When I was fourteen and I healed your brother, I couldn't see you for months because I was kept locked away in heaven. They burned more symbols into my arms in the hope they could control me, but I knew I couldn't just leave you alone." He opens his dark eyes again and looks up at Dean. "When I missed your departure, it was because they'd decided I was spending too much time around you, so they gave me wings. That evening at the bar when you first found out I was an angel, they were trying to prevent me from seeing you because they knew I'd just agreed to it. The night on your roof, I had wings because I'd agreed to a date. You must have noticed it happened more often the closer we became. Earlier today, at the restaurant…the angel that found me was telling me to stay away from you.

"I've been ignoring it all for so long, hoping I could work around it and you'd never have to know. I was willing to take it, to take anything if it meant I could stay. But tonight I realized…it's not just me they're threatening, Dean. It's you. And now with my wings like this…I can't keep this from you. I should have told you weeks ago, a month ago, but I…I was selfish. And I'm sorry."

Dean shakes his head, staring at Cas with an appalled expression, even as he still runs his fingers through the angel's hair. "Everything? Everything was me?"

"It's not your fault. It's not. It's mine." He closes his eyes, clenching his jaw for a moment before he opens his eyes again and stares past Dean to the ceiling. "There's something so wrong to them about an angel and a human falling in love and I don't know why. But tonight we crossed the line."

"Cas…Cas, I'm not worth this," Dean says, a hint of incredulity in his tone. "You can't take all this for me."

Desperation fills Cas's eyes. "There's a reason I've done it this long. I was going to just withstand it, Dean, I was. But now you might be in danger and I…I don't know what to do."

Dean shakes his head again. "We have to stop. Castiel, I can't let you do this for me. The wings are one thing, but now they're hurting you and I'm not going to sit here and let that happen." He puts his hand on the side of Cas's face. "You mean too much to me," he whispers.

It seems to take Cas a moment to fully realize what he means. "No—you mean—"

"We part ways," Dean finishes. "We break up. What else can we do, Cas? I can't watch this happen."

"This is why I never told you," Cas says, his tone bordering on anger. "You're too good of a man, Dean. I knew you'd never let it slide."

"Of course I wouldn't! I'm not going to let my boyfriend suffer just to see me, I'm not worth it."

"You are to me," Cas hisses.

"Then we need to figure out a way to stop feeling like this."

Cas shakes his head, and his injured expression is almost too much. He looks at Dean for a long time, then closes his eyes as though giving up.

Dean gently takes Cas's head in one hand and slips out from underneath him.

"Where are you going?" Cas asks softly.

Dean wraps the sheets around Cas and pulls them out from how they'd been tucked in at the foot of the bed. " _We,_ " he says, scooping Cas and the sheets into his arms, "are going to the kitchen and I'm going to look at your wings."


	11. Chapter 11

The mangled wings remain on Cas's back all night and all the next day. Dean put Cas on the kitchen table and carefully examined his wings, gingerly wiping away a few small smears of blood, but there was really nothing he could do to help.

The two slept together for the night, and when Dean woke up the next morning—around six, which only gave him about six hours of sleep—he slipped away from the still sleeping angel and went to make breakfast.

But something is different. Instead of feeling pleased when he sees a tousle-haired Cas emerge from the bedroom, he just feels sad. Instead of feeling content when Cas puts his arms around him from behind, setting his chin hesitantly on Dean's shoulder as he tries to flip an omelette, he just feels regretful.

"Do you want me to leave today?" Cas asks softly from over Dean's shoulder.

It takes Dean a long time to answer. "I don't know, Cas. I can't just—I don't want to throw you out when you still have wings, but…maybe it's the only way they'll go away."

Cas unclasps his hands and puts one on Dean's shoulder. "Are you still certain you want to do this?"

"Yes," Dean says, turning around. "Don't you? I mean, I know you said _you'd_ take any punishment, but now I'm in danger too. Can't you at least relate to why I'm making this decision?"

"I don't disagree with you, Dean." Cas's hand falls back to his side and he looks at the floor. "I just don't want to do this."

"Nor do I. But I don't know what else to do." Dean feels a spark of anger and he turns back to the omelette in the pan. Damn heaven for being this way.

After they eat breakfast in uncharacteristic silence, Dean asks, resigned, "Do you have anywhere to go?"

"I—I have a place in mind."

"Good. Because I go back to work tomorrow and I think…I think you should go tonight."

The day drifts by with neither of them acting like themselves. Dean's idea the previous night that somehow they were going to find a way to stop loving each other was bullshit and he knows it. But nonetheless there seems to be an unspoken agreement that the less they talk to each other, the more this will somehow be easier.

They spend most of the day sitting on the couch in front of Dean's tiny television, flipping idly past channels. At first, they sit far enough apart that they aren't touching, as if they're distant friends instead of boyfriends, but by the end of the day, Cas has fallen asleep on Dean's shoulder.

Dean hasn't failed to notice that Cas looks pale and feverish. He needs attention, but Dean can't fathom a good way to get it to him. Every option gets too complicated as soon as he thinks about it. The best he can do is hope that either the wings will go away once they part or Cas's angel healing will take care of it.

He sighs and leans his head lightly against Cas's, closing his eyes. He can hear Cas snoring softly. Though Cas's wing mobility is limited, he has them slightly spread in order to sit on the couch. His left wing rests against Dean's back and curls around his shoulder slightly, the top of it brushing his neck periodically with Cas's breathing. Dean feels surrounded by the angel, and it's a perfect kind of sensation, one he thought he'd never really feel.

It makes him sick to think of forcing Cas out on his own. He knows it's the right thing to do, but since when has right ever felt so wrong?

He lifts his head and reaches over to touch Cas's shoulder. "Cas," he says quietly to wake him.

Cas starts slightly and straightens. He tucks his wing in a bit and whatever Dean had felt is gone. "I didn't realized I had fallen asleep," he says drowsily. "Angels don't have to sleep—usually I have to tell myself to."

"Well, there are probably a lot of things going on with you that don't normally happen," Dean says. He clears his throat. "I think…I think it's time to go, Cas."

The angel nods. He seems resigned; he's accepted it.

Dean stands and goes to his bedroom, where he grabs Cas's trench coat from where it had been tossed over the dresser. He holds it briefly to his face and breathes in the scent of Castiel.

 _Why the hell do I have to love everything about him so much now that he's leaving?_

He shakes his head and lowers the trench coat. The more he blocks out those thoughts, the easier this will be.

Earlier that day, he'd taken Cas's trench coat and cut a slit out of the back of it to accommodate Cas's wings. Dean didn't really want to disfigure it, since he knows Cas is rather fond of it, but it was the only item of clothing long enough to not be ruined.

"Here," Dean says, entering the living room again. "I figured it was about time you were able to wear something, even with the wings. And yes, I cut up your trench coat."

Cas frowns but doesn't seem displeased. On the contrary, he says, "Thanks. I wouldn't have thought of that."

Dean just nods and helps Cas get his wings through the slit in the coat. Cas winces as he stretches each wing through the back, but when they've gotten it around his shoulders, he seems satisfied. For the first time since Dean met him, he ties the belt around the front of the coat to hold it closed. The lapels of it form a V in front of his chest that still makes it very obvious that he's not wearing a shirt, but the point isn't exactly to help him blend in.

He wouldn't be able to do that for as long as he still had wings.

Dean finds himself standing the middle of the room, facing Cas with no idea what to say to him. Suddenly, it's like he's fifteen again and just telling Cas that his family is moving.

"Is this it?" Cas asks, looking up at Dean. "Are we ever going to see each other again?"

"No. For your sake, no."

Cas nods, looking to the floor for a moment. When he meets Dean's eyes again, he says, "You know I'm only doing this to protect you."

"I know, you stubborn bastard." He puts a hand on Cas's upper arm. "Try to find some self esteem while you're out there, would you?"

Cas smiles slightly. "I've gotten better."

"Yeah, but you've got more work to do." Dean shakes his head. "It's been fun, Cas. I wish it didn't have to end this way, but here we are. Good luck with heaven. Maybe now that I'm out of the picture, you can talk some sense into them."

"Maybe," Cas says, but Dean can tell he doesn't believe it for a second. He opens his mouth to say something, then pauses and closes it again. Then he says quickly, "Thank you, Dean." He puts his hand over Dean's, which is still on Cas's arm. "You've shown me a world of things I never thought I would see or experience. I don't want to draw this out because I know it would drive you insane, I just wanted to say that. You mean a lot to me. You always will."

Dean clenches his jaw and nods. "You're welcome. You're right, I don't want to make this any longer than it needs to be." He moves his hand off Cas's shoulder. "Come on, angel boy." He opens the door and they step out onto the porch. "I don't know how the hell to say goodbye to you," Dean admits with a hint of anger. "So get out of here."

Cas nods, seemingly more understanding of than insulted by Dean's tone and words. When he steps up to Dean and kisses him lightly on the cheek, Dean shuts his eyes hard.

"Don't you dare blame this on yourself," Cas says quietly before pulling away.

Dean gives a single nod, but doesn't say anything. He feels like this is all going too fast and he wants to slow it down, but what can he say? What's he _willing_ to say?

Cas turns and steps away and Dean knows it's only a matter of second before he disappears.

"Cas," Dean bursts out desperately, catching Cas's hand. The angel turns to look at him and Dean sees tears in his eyes. Dean pulls him back and hugs him tightly. "I'm sorry," he says quietly.

Cas does some combination of a laugh and a sob. "You completely ignored what I just said, didn't you?"

"I think so," Dean laughs, but his laugh holds no happiness.

When they part, Cas doesn't meet Dean's eyes. He turns his back to him and raises a hand to his face, maybe wiping tears away.

And just like that, he's gone.

vvv

A week passes and Dean feels numb. He doesn't feel unhappy. He feels…distracted. Like he's waiting. Like this state he's in is only temporary.

Like he's going to see Castiel again.

 _It's a good thing Cas is gone,_ he tells himself repeatedly. _This is all for the best._

Each work day goes by in a blur of faces, metal, oil, and sweat. They're the better days, the days Dean can shut his brain off and just focus on the task at hand. The weekends are the days he spends minutes at a time staring at the name 'Cas' on his contacts list, and when he notices breakup songs playing off one of his albums, after which he immediately rolls his eyes and skips to the next song.

It's late one Sunday in mid June when Dean is in the bathroom of a bar, leaning over the sink, splashing water over his face as he tries to get his thoughts together.

He can't stop seeing Cas's face. He can't stop thinking of what it was like to feel him that night before everything changed.

He can't stop hearing the angel's cries of pain as his wings were crushed.

Dean's phone rings. He almost starts at the sound of the heavy guitar tones, and he realizes he's been standing for a few minutes with his elbows resting on the sides of the sink and his face in his hands. He realizes his throat is tight.

He wipes his hand on his pants and digs his phone out of his pocket. He's surprised by the caller ID and flips the phone open to answer.

"Dad. Hey." He cringes as his voice breaks.

"Dean," John says. He sounds relieved. "How are you?"

"Fine," Dean answers a little to quickly. "I'm…great. Why are you calling me? I haven't heard from you in ages."

"I've tried to call you twice in the past couple of weeks. Usually you always answer your phone, but I couldn't get a hold of you. I talked to Sam instead. He hasn't heard from you in over a month."

Dean rubs a hand over his face and leaves the bathroom to go back to his seat at the bar. "You didn't just call me to check in, Dad. What's going on?"

John sighs. "You're right. You were calling me a lot several weeks back and I figured it was time to address that."

Dean takes a swig of his beer. "You finally gonna tell me what you've been doing?"

"You know what I've been doing."

Dean scoffs silently, looking at his beer bottle. _Probably about the same thing I'm doing right now._

"Give me time, Dean. It's not like you and your brother need me right now. You're adults."

" _Time_?" Dean asks incredulously. "Dad, I've been giving you time for the past six years."

"It hasn't been that long. I didn't leave you and your brother until a year after Mary…."

"Dad." Dean pauses. "I know it's hard to get over Mom. _Trust me,_ I know. It still hurts me, too." He takes a breath. "But someday you might want to actually try being a father again."

"Dean—"

"You have no idea what I've been doing for the past year—at least—do you? And last I heard from Sam, he was sure you'd just given up on us."

"You haven't been in touch with us yourself."

"Well, that's been two months! You've been absent for years."

There's a pause on the line that lasts long enough Dean wonders if John hung up without him noticing. Then he says, very calmly, "Talk to Sam. He wants to hear from you. But if this is what you've wanted to say to me all this time, don't call me again."

He hangs up.

Dean closes his eyes, a raw feeling in his gut. He shouldn't have snapped like that. Those were never the things he'd wanted to say to his dad after all this time. But he can't deny that he's angry.

He pulls the phone away from his ear and puts his elbow on the bar counter, resting his forehead in his hand. One of these days he won't mess up with the people he cares about.


	12. Chapter 12

An angel sits alone in an abandoned warehouse in Germany.

It's been nearly three weeks since Dean hugged him goodbye. The wings still burden him, giving him little twinges of pain every time he accidentally brushes them against something or tries to extend one. They're close to healed, but Cas knows they'll never be the same. With no medical help and only a fraction of the speed and finesse angel healing usually gives, they've healed wrong, crooked, and he knows he won't be able to fly with them.

This. This is what an angel gets for loving a human.

He misses flying. Sometimes, even though it's unnecessary, he craves food, almost as if he's hungry, and he wanders out to find something to take from a dumpster. While he's outside—usually at night—he'll look up at the stars and remember all the times he flew and Dean watched, grinning, or the times they both were in the air and they shared a kiss while surrounded in stars.

Now he spends most of his time sitting in this warehouse while it pours outside, dripping water through the rusted roof and onto the floor around him. He usually cradles his CD player in his lap, closing his eyes and listening to Eminem because everything else reminds him of Dean.

He never told Dean this was the 'place he had in mind.' It might have made him feel worse. Where else, though? He had to avoid humans at all cost, so it was this, which he's familiar with, or some other abandoned building or basement or alley.

Cas puts his head in his hands, running a hand through his hair, and tries to block the image of Dean Winchester from his mind.

vvvv

"Dean?"

"Hey, Sammy."

"Wow. It's good to hear from you. I thought for a second it must've been someone else calling from your phone."

Dean puts his feet up on the couch and puts a hand behind his head, frowning. "Well, don't be dramatic. It hasn't been _that_ long since I called you."

"Well, it's been, what, two months? Closer to three, I think."

"Yeah, well. Stuff happens. How are you, Sammy?"

"I'm…I'm good. I'm doing really well, actually." Pause. "How are you, Dean?"

"Never better."

"You sound tired."

Dean frowns. "I'm fine." In actuality, he hasn't slept well for weeks. "What's goin' on with you?"

"Um…really? You wanna talk about me?"

"Sure."

"Okay. I'm taking a couple of summer classes. Kind of for lack of anything better to do. Everything's going well, I, uh…I have a girlfriend."

Dean's eyebrows shoot up. "Really? You?" He chuckles. "It's about time you lost your virginity."

He can _feel_ his brother's embarrassment through the phone. "Dean—we haven't done that yet."

"Well get to it."

"I hate you."

"No but really, who is she?"

It takes a moment for Sam to answer. Probably composing himself again. "Remember my friend Jessica I told you about?"

"No."

Sam sighs. "Well, she's a student here too. She's…nice. Really nice. A few weeks ago we made it official that we're together."

"Good for you, Sammy."

There's a pause. "Are you okay, Dean?"

"You already asked me how I am."

"Yeah, but…I mean, you wouldn't returns calls from me or Dad for a few months. You know I talked to him, right?"

"Yeah, I talked to him last week."

"And now you're like…asking me what I've been doing? I know you're not against me being at Stanford, but you've never cared much about what I do here. It's like you're trying to avoid talking about yourself."

Sighing, Dean runs a hand over the scruff on his face. He hasn't shaved in a few days. "Look, some stuff has happened since we talked last. Yeah. But it's no big deal. I've just been a little distracted."

"Do you…wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"Of course not."

Even with Dean's refusal to talk about Cas, it's nice to catch up with Sam again. He figures he should've done it while ago. It almost makes Dean feel normal again, even though he still feels empty.

He still misses Cas every day. It's strange; he's never had a hard time with breakups. Whether he initiated them or his partner did, he was always able to recuperate within two weeks, maybe slightly more. The average two-month relationship like he'd had with Cas usually only needed a week-long recovery.

But there really hadn't been another relationship like that. And it hadn't been the typical breakup, either. It doesn't just haunt Dean that Cas is gone; it haunts him that he'd gotten hurt because of Dean, and that he'd still been hurt when he had to leave.

Some day he'll get over that angel. But not today.

vvvv

"You shouldn't be here, Castiel."

Cas starts and turns to find Naomi watching him calmly. He stares at her for just a second. Then he lunges forward and slams her up against a building, his forearm across her throat. " _You_ ," he growls. "What are you doing here?"

She shoves him off in an instant and twists his arm around behind him with a _crack_.

Cas cringes as she releases him, his arm healing within two seconds.

"You know better than that," she says flatly. "Anyway, I could ask you the same. I would've thought you would know not to come here."

Cas glances around tightly. Camden. "I wasn't going to stay. I just wanted to check—"

"It's time, Castiel."

He eyes her warily. "For what?"

She smiles with a kind of warmth that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "It's time to return to heaven."

It takes him a moment to understand her. "It's…what? Now? After all this time?"

"You needed the time. You had gone too far off track. But now you have a chance to come back before you make another mistake. Come back to your brothers and sisters, where you belong."

He shakes his head slowly, staring at her with only half-disguised incredulity. "You think I can go back to heaven after what you've done to me? After you destroyed the only real life I've ever had? After you left me with these broken wings and refused to let them heal?"

"This is your last chance to come back, Castiel. Think about it. If you come back, we will take you. You can be a true angel again." Her expression hardens. "If you stay, you will constantly be running, cowering in basements, trying to keep your secret hidden. You'll be an outcast—a freak."

Cas looks at her with no expression, but his mind is turning over his options. Is it worth it to stay? He's always wanted to stay in the human world, but is this any way to do it?

On the other hand, could he ever surround himself in angels again? The people who so loathe the idea that a human and an angel could be together?

"No matter what I choose," Cas says slowly, calmly, "I will be an outcast. Every angel in heaven knows it's an offense to have intercourse with a human. And I suspect it's no secret there what I did." He steps closer to her and says lowly, "I would rather live amongst the judgement of humans than the judgement of angels."

Naomi stiffens. "He corrupted you, didn't he? Dean Winchester. You know he's dead, don't you?"

For a moment, Cas forgets to breathe. _She's lying._

"He is," Naomi says. "I sent Esper to kill him about a month back. I believe he'd just gotten off the phone with his brother."

When Cas just stares at her, frozen, with no visible reaction, she sighs and rolls her eyes slightly.

"It was always the plan, Castiel. You weren't the only one who committed a crime. He knew you were an angel. He knew you should have been in heaven, but humans are innately selfish."

"You're lying," Cas says through clenched teeth.

"Look," she says, and puts a hand on his shoulder.

Before he can move away, they're on the roof of a building across from Dean's apartment.

"His car," she points out.

For a moment, Cas doesn't understand what she's trying to show him, but then he realizes. The Impala is dirty, as if it's been collecting dust on the driveway. With as much as Dean loves that car, Cas can't fathom why he would let it get dirty.

"Show me his grave, then," Cas says quietly.

"He didn't have one," Naomi says, "he was cremated. Family tradition, I believe."

Shaking his head in denial, Cas pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials Dean's number.

Naomi purses her lips and pulls a ringing phone out of her own pocket. Its ringtone is a heavy guitar tune. "Face it, Castiel. Your precious human is gone. _That's what happens to them."_

Cas's legs start to feel shaky and numb. The angels wouldn't have known where Dean lived if Cas hadn't been there. But none of this would have happened if it weren't for him.

Cas sinks to his knees, staring over the edge of the building at the dirty Impala. "Is he really dead?" he asks quietly, brokenly.

"What do you think?" Naomi asks.

He can't tell. He doesn't know. Or he does know and he can't accept it.

Naomi sighs. "I didn't want to ever tell you. I knew it would make you hate me. But it had to be done."

Cas lowers himself to sitting. He can't say anything. There's nothing to say.

"There's nothing for you here," Naomi says softly.

"You think telling me Dean is dead is going to make me want to return to heaven?" Cas growls. "You think I'll ever want to go back now that I know what you've done?"

"I tried, Castiel," Naomi says vehemently. "I tried to get you back when all of heaven had given up on you. But you've made your choice clear. You choose humans. You'll always choose humans. Well, see what they think of you when they see what you are. To them, you'll be another Lucifer. A fallen angel with mangled black wings? They'll never accept you."

She disappears.

Cas gasps, wincing in pain as he feels drained suddenly, as if something's pulling him inside out. The sensation only lasts a few seconds, but it's enough to send him to his hands and knees.

When it's over, he knows what happened. His connection to heaven has been severed. There's no going back.

He's fallen.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Here it is! The last chapter. I hope y'all are ready for this one. I'm really very proud of how this story turned out; I might like it even more than my previous one. I'm writing a new SPN fic, but I'm not sure I'll ever finish it and post it. In the meantime, let me know what you thought of this one (and don't forget the epilogue, it's next).**

Two days later, when Castiel is long gone from the building across the street, Dean Winchester steps out of his apartment with a bucket full of soapy water and a sponge. He's been intending to clean his car for a while now, but he's had a hard time with motivation for the past month and a half.

He's just pulled the sponge out of the water and started to wipe off Baby's hood when he hears a voice behind him.

"Congratulations, Dean Winchester."

He whips around to find a woman in a gray business suit standing behind him, arms crossed.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Naomi."

"You're an angel, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"And what exactly have I done to please _you_?"

"Oh, I'm not pleased, Dean. You're the reason I've just lost someone who could've been a very good angel, with enough of the right influence. You were the _wrong_ influence."

"Cas." Glowering suspiciously, Dean drops the sponge back in the bucket and wipes his hand on his jeans. "What do you mean, 'lost' him?"

"He fell. Two days ago. I tried to give him the chance to return to heaven, but he wouldn't take it. And there's—"

"Hold up. You mean _you're_ the bitch who's been trying to control him this whole time?"

"I'm not the only one. And it doesn't matter anyway. It's over. Heaven has abandoned him."

It doesn't take Dean long to see the implications of this. "So you're done interfering with him? He can be down here now and you won't punish him?"

"Yes. But he never would've been able to fit in among humans. Not with those wings." She sighs. "It doesn't matter anyway."

"What are you not saying?" Dean narrows his eyes. "You keep talking like he's dead."

"He's not. Not yet."

" _Where is he?_ " Dean demands.

Naomi looks at him very evenly and says simply, "At a railroad bridge across the Delaware River, about fifteen minutes from here. He's ready to end his life."

vvvv

This story started with a bridge, and it ends with a bridge.

The second and last bridge is massive. It rises more than fifty feet above the water. It's old, made of brick and rusty metal, and has two tracks running through it. To humans, it's called Delair Bridge.

But to Castiel, it's means to an end.

He stands at the edge of the bridge, looking down into the water, which looks calm but must be deep given the size of the river. It's quiet up here, with no railway traffic going through right now and all roads being too far away for the noise to carry.

Cas is terrified.

Not of dying, no. Of living.

Of living in the human world with these broken wings. Of living without heaven, the home that was never home but that he always went back to. Of living with the knowledge that Dean Winchester is dead because of him. Dean Winchester, the man who accidentally taught him what love is, who gave him reasons to care about life again, who helped him finally realize that there was more to himself than what heaven was trying to make him.

More than anything, he's terrified of living with himself.

Cas tries to take a deep breath, but he's limited by the cord that goes tightly around his chest and binds his wings against his back.

No escape.

He closes his eyes. It's time. He doesn't stop and think about his life, or about how odd it would be for someone to find his winged corpse wash out of the river, or even about Dean. He wants everything to be over.

There's no heaven after his life. No hell, either. Just…blissful nothingness.

Castiel lets himself fall forward.

vvvv

Dean slams into Cas just as he starts to fall and they both go sprawling onto the edge of the bridge. Dean lands on top of Cas, who landed on his side. They're so close to the edge that Dean could tip his body weight and make them both fall, so he rolls to the other side, pulling Cas along with him.

Cas twists around on top of him so that they face each other. The shock and disbelief on his face is more than just the surprise that Dean was there to save his life. "Dean? You're alive?"

"Yes, of course I'm alive, what do you—" He cuts off with a grunt as Cas drops down on top of him, hugging him, his face buried in Dean's collar.

"I thought you were gone," Cas says, his muffled voice wavering. "I thought you were dead."

Dean holds Cas tightly to his chest, closing his eyes. The terror and adrenaline rush he'd gotten from seeing Cas nearly fall is still working at him and he feels shaky. "I thought you'd already be gone when I got here." He frowns and opens his eyes. He gently pushes Cas away. "Hold on, why did you think I was dead?"

Cas shakes his head. There are tears in his eyes, though he shows no sign of sobbing.

"Is that what this was about?" Dean asks incredulously. He sits up so that Cas has to sit back on his heels.

Cas doesn't look at him. "I—It was everything. It was—yes. Mainly that."

"Oh god," Dean says, pulling Cas into another hug. He shuts his eyes tightly and murmurs, "You stupid, stupid bastard." With his arms wrapped around Cas's wings, he can feel a cord tying them against his back and he frowns. They part from their embrace and Dean looks to where the cord is knotted in front of Cas's chest. "Jesus Christ," he says, working to untie it, "you were really going to do it, weren't you?"

Cas nods. He doesn't meet Dean's eyes.

"Are you okay?" Dean asks, pausing with the knot as he looks very seriously at Cas.

"I—I don't know."

Dean pulls the cord away and finally gets a chance to really look at Cas. It's been almost two months since he saw him last. He still wears the trench coat tied in front of his otherwise bare chest. The coat is filthy and Cas's hair is a mess, and it's evident he hasn't shaved—or whatever angels do—in a long time. His skin looks a little paler than usual and if angels had to sleep, Dean would think he's been missing a lot of it.

"You look horrible," he says, putting a hand on the side of Cas's face. "Where have you been all this time?"

"Germany," he answers quietly. "The wings never went away, so I had to stay out of sight."

"Why were you here, then?"

"To check on you. I wanted to try to live a life instead of staying in the warehouse. Even if I just found a spot in the middle of a forest and never saw anyone again, I had to do something else. But it was a commitment to stay away from humans forever and I had to…I had to make sure you were still okay before I went."

"And then I'm guessing _Naomi_ told you I was dead."

He nods, then frowns. "How do you know her name?"

"Paid me a visit before I got here. She's the only reason I knew you were going to take your…leap of death."

"She told you where I was?"

"Yeah, why?"

Cas frowns. "Why would she tell you what I was going to do _and_ where I was?"

"I don't know and I don't really care. You're alive—and _I'm_ alive—and heaven's done with you, right?"

"I—I guess so. I fell. There's no greater abandonment from heaven than that."

Dean stands up and helps Cas to his feet. "You know what that means, right?"

"I think so—I want to, but—"

Dean interrupts him with a brief kiss. "Don't ruin this for me."

Cas smiles slightly. "I just don't know what to do about the wings, Dean."

He sighs. "Come on, you. Let's go back to the car." He grabs Cas's hand and laces their fingers together as they start to head off the bridge. "What are the chances you can get rid of them now that you're not connected to heaven?"

"I guess maybe….Do you have a lighter?"

"Uh, yeah, in the car. Why?"

When they get back to the car, Dean pulls the lighter out and flips it on. "Are you sure about this?"

"No. But I'm willing to take a burn for it. Do you want me to do it?"

Dean gives him a look, then takes Cas's arm and asks, "Ready?"

Cas nods.

Dean carefully runs the lighter across the underside of Cas's arm, fast enough to not prolong the pain but slow enough to make a burn.

Cas winces and inhales through his teeth, but he hardly flinches.

Nothing changes.

"Was that it?" Dean asks. "Was that supposed to work?"

Cas frowns. "Maybe not, try this." He offers his other arm.

Dean shakes his head, but takes Cas's wrist and runs the lighter under it. When Cas gasps in pain, Dean pulls it away instantly.

"It wasn't you," Cas says through a clenched jaw. He's breathing heavily now and his face is tight. The symbols on his arms start to glow.

Cas's knees give out and he collapses into Dean, who wraps his arms around Cas's lower back under his wings. Suddenly, Cas's wings start to burn, starting at his back and spreading out to the ends of his feathers. When the fire dies suddenly, the wings are gone. Black ash floats through the air where they'd been, momentarily making a ghost of their shape before it scatters in the breeze.

Cas holds his own weight again and looks up at Dean with hesitant excitement. "They're gone."

"They're gone," Dean affirms with a smile. Their faces are only inches apart and it doesn't take much for him to lean down and kiss Cas, not the brief interruption he'd done before, but a full, intimate kiss. Dean puts his hands against Cas's back to press him closer and he can feel Cas's skin through the slit in his trench coat. No wings. Just Cas.

Human Cas.

Cas pulls away just enough to say quietly, "Dean?"

Dean rests his forehead against Cas's, his eyes still closed. "Mm."

"It's been….I mean, it's been two months since we parted and it's just…are we still…?"

Dean leans away and opens his eyes, smirking. "Are you asking if we're together again?"

Cas looks both relieved and annoyed. "Yes."

Dean puts a hand on Cas's neck, resting his thumb on Cas's cheek as he presses his lips against the little frown line that appears when Cas gets insecure. "What do you think, Castiel?"

vvv

This story started with a bridge, and it ended with a bridge.

But in a way, it just started twice.


	14. Epilogue

_July 2007_

 _Lawrence, Kansas_

"It's so much nicer out here than I remembered," Dean says over the crunching of his and Cas's footsteps on the gravel road. "I guess I've gotten used to the city."

"Would you move back here?" Cas asks. "Once you're older."

"Hell, I'd move within the next ten years if I thought I could." He looks over at Cas and nudges him with his shoulder. "Make more money, you."

Cas smiles and rolls his eyes. "I'm your boyfriend, not your bank."

Dean stops and looks at him very seriously. "You mean that's _not_ what you're for? Well, I've been lied to."

This earns him another eye roll from Cas. Cas takes Dean's hand and pulls him until he starts walking again.

It doesn't take long before Dean can see his old house again.

"Jesus Christ, it looks the same as when we left it. 'For sale' sign and all. Do you think anyone's even lived here since then?"

Cas shrugs. "I'm not sure."

"I wouldn't say I miss the place, but that was a good stage of my life. I'd feel nostalgic, except I don't. Because I'm not that kind of guy."

"Of course not," Cas says, amused.

They walk a little farther down the road until they reach the bridge.

"It looks smaller than I remembered," Cas notes, looking over the edge at the water that runs out of the culvert.

"It does," Dean agrees. He steps down to the river bank and picks up a rock before skipping it through under the road. He offers one to Cas, who just shakes his head. "You never were any good at it anyway," Dean says as he tosses it. He steps back up to where Cas waits. "Why'd you wanna come here, Cas? I mean, I know it's where we met and all, but why now?"

Cas gives Dean a knowing smile that lasts just long enough to say everything. "I think you know why."

Dean stops dead and looks at him. "You—you mean—"

Cas takes a deep breath as he takes Dean's hands each in one of his and lowers himself to one knee. "I've thought a lot about what I wanted say at this moment. At one point I had everything written out so I wouldn't forget anything or mess something up. I was going to just…read it right off the paper if I had to. But then I read what I'd written and I realized…you already know everything I want to tell you. And I knew you wouldn't want to hear some long speech from me anyway, so…here I am, and I have no clue what to say." He laughs and he sounds almost choked up. Dean's just looking at him with admiration and love and not a hint of disbelief.

"Can I say yes before you ask?"

Cas laughs. "Dean Winchester, will you marry me?"

" _Yes._ " Dean pulls Cas to his feet and kisses him, reveling in every movement of Cas's lips against his own because this— _this_ is something he'll never forget. "Of course I will. I'm completely in love with you, you know."

"I know," Cas says. They're just a few inches apart and Dean can feel him fidget. "Did I—did I do everything right? Was that okay for a proposal?"

"Oh, Cas." Dean smiles and sets a hand against Cas's chest. "As far as I'm concerned, it was perfect."


End file.
